HEinONK 
AND  Ttt£ 


DAUGttTm 


ILLUSTRATED 


Z'/^^*' 


DUKl; 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 


Treasure  %oom 


WALTER  D,  FOX, 

PRIVATiy^IB^ARY. 


'.O.r.L.Kf., 


THE     MONK    AND    THE 
HANGMAN'S    DAUGHTER 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Archive 
in  2011  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


http://www.archive.org/details/monkhangmansdaug01bier 


I  shall  suuti  he  ivilh  her.     PraUc  ha  to  God! 


q^HE    MONK  AND    THE 
i  HANGMAN'S   DAUGHTER 


BY  AMBROSE  BIERCE  AND 
GUSTAV  ADOLPH  DANZIGER 
ILLUSTRATED  BY  THEODOR  HAMPE 


F.    T    SCHULTE   &    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS    .    CHICAGO  .  MDCCCXCII 


Copyright,  1891, 

By  G.  a.  DANZIGER. 

All  rights  reserved. 


To 

J.   D.  ARNOLD,   M.  D.. 

In  token  of  the  respect  and  esteem  in  which  he  is  held  by 

THE  AUTHORS  OF  THIS  BOOK. 


The  foundation  of  this  narrative  is  an  old 
manuscript  originally  helonging  to  the  Fran- 
ciscan monastery  at  Berchtesgaden,  Bavaria. 
The  manuscript  was  obtained  from  a  2jeasanf 
by  Ilerr  Richard  Voss,  of  Heidelberg ,  from, 
whose  German  version  this  is  an  adaptation. 

D.  and  B. 


THE  MONK  AND  THE  HANGMAN'S  DAUGHTER. 


I. 

^-*N  the  first  day  of  May  in  the 
year  of  our  Blessed  Lord 
1G80,  the  Franciscan  monks 
iEgidius,  Romanus  and  Am- 
brosius  were  sent  by  tlieir 
Snperior  from  the  Christian 
'city  of  Passau  to  the  Monas- 
tery of  Berchtesgaden,  near  Salzburg.  I,  Ambro- 
sius,  was  the  strongest  and  youngest  of  the  three, 
being  but  twenty-one  years  of  age. 

The  Monastery  of  Berchtesgaden  Avas,  we  kuew, 
in  a  wild  and  mouutainous  country,  covered  with 
dismal  forests,  which  were  infested  with  bears  and 
evil  spirits;  and  our  hearts  were  filled  with  sad- 
ness to  think  what  might  become  of  us  in  so  dread- 
ful a  j)lace.  But  since  it  is  Christian  duty  to  obey 
the  mandates  of  the  Church,  we  did  not  complain, 
and  were  even  glad  to  serve  the  wish  of  our 
beloved  and  revered  Superior. 


anti  tl)c 
?»anaman'3  Having  received  the  benediction,  and  prayed  for 
33auatter  ^^^^  ^'^^^  time  in  the  church  of  our  Saint,  we  tied 
up  our  cowls,  put  new  soles  upon  our  feet,  and  set 
out,  attended  by  the  blessings  of  all.  Although 
the  way  was  long  and  perilous,  we  did  not  lose  our 
hope,  for  hope  is  not  only  the  beginning  and  the 
end  of  religion,  but  also  the  strength  of  youth  and 
the  sujiport  of  age.  Therefore  our  hearts  soon 
forgot  the  sadness  of  parting,  and  rejoiced  in  the 
new  and  varying  scenes  that  gave  us  our  first  real 
knowledge  of  the  beauty  of  the  earth  as  God  has 
made  it.  The  color  and  brilliance  of  the  air  were 
like  the  garment  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  ;  the  sun 
shone  like  the  (J olden  Heart  of  the  Savior,  from 
which  streameth  light  and  life  for  all  mankind ; 
the  dark  blue  canopy  that  hung  above  formed  a 
grand  and  beautiful  house  of  prayer,  in  which  every 
blade  of  grass,  every  flower  and  living  creature 
praised  the  glory  of  God. 

As  we  passed  through  the  many  hamlets,  vil- 
lages and  cities  that  lay  along  our  way,  the  thou- 
sands of  peo];)le,  busy  in  all  the  vocations  of  life, 
presented  to  us  jioor  monks  a  new  and  strange 
spectacle,  which  filled  us  with  wonder  and  admira- 
tion. When  so  many  churches  came  into  view 
as  we  journeyed  on,  and  the  piety  and  ardor  of 


11  2r!)c  J«onft 

ana  tl)e 


the  people  were  made  manifest  by  the  acclama- 
tions with  which  they  hailed  us  and  their  alacrity 
in  administering  to  our  needs,  our  hearts  were  full 
of  gratitude  and  happiness.  All  the  institutions 
of  the  Church  were  prosperous  and  wealthy,  which 
showed  that  they  had  found  favor  in  the  siglit  of 
the  good  God  whom  we  serve.  The  gardens  and 
orchards  of  the  monasteries  and  convents  were  well 
kept,  proving  the  care  and  industry  of  the  pious 
peasantry  and  the  holy  inmates  of  the  cloisters. 
It  was  glorious  to  hear  the  peals  of  bells  announc- 
ing the  hours  of  the  day :  we  actually  breathed 
music  in  the  air  —  the  sweet  tones  were  like  the 
notes  of  angels  singing  praise  to  the  Lord. 

Wherever  we  went  we  greeted  the  people  in  the 
name  of  our  patron  Saint.  On  all  sides  were 
manifcot  humility  and  joy  :  women  and  children 
hastened  to  the  wayside,  crowding  about  us  to  kiss 
our  hands  and  beseech  a  blessing.  It  almost 
seemed  as  if  we  M'cre  no  longer  poor  servitors  of 
God  and  man,  but  lords  and  masters  of  this  whole 
beautiful  earth.  Let  us,  however,  not  grow  proud 
in  spirit,  but  remain  humble,  looking  carefully 
into  our  hearts  lest  we  deviate  from  the  rules  of 
our  holy  Order  and  sin  against  our  blessed  Saint. 


Jljanflmaix'a 
2JBnual)t«:. 


Cte  ifaonk  12 

anO  tt)e 


Jj^anflman's 
30aufli)ta;. 


I,  Brother  Ambrosius,  confess  Avitli  penitence 
and  shame  that  my  soul  caught  itself  uj)on  ex- 
ceedingly Avorldly  and  sinful  thoughts.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  the  women  sought  more  eagerly  to  kiss 
my  hands  than  those  of  my  companions  —  which 
surely  was  not  right,  since  I  am  not  more  holy 
than  they  ;  besides,  am  younger  and  less  experienced 
and  tried  in  the  fear  and  commandments  of  the 
Lord.  When  I  observed  this  error  of  the  "women, 
and  saw  how  the  maidens  kept  their  eyes  upon  me, 
I  became  frightened,  and  wondered  if  I  could 
resist  should  temptation  accost  me ;  and  often  I 
thought,  with  fear  and  trembling,  that  vows  and 
prayer  and  penance  alone  do  not  make  one  a  saint ; 
one  must  bo  so  pure  in  heart  that  temptation  is 
unknown.     Ah  me  ! 

At  night  we  always  lodged  in  some  monastery, 
invariably  receiving  a  pleasant  welcome.  Plenty 
of  food  and  drink  was  set  before  us,  and  as  we  sat 
at  table  the  monks  would  crowd  about,  asking  for 
news  of  the  great  world  of  which  it  Avas  our 
blessed  privilege  to  see  and  learn  so  much.  When 
our  destination  was  learned  we  were  usually  pitied 
for  being  doomed  to  live  in  the  mountain  wilder- 
ness. We  were  told  of  ice-fields,  snow-crowned 
mountains  and  tremendous  rocks,  roaring  torrents. 


13  E\)e  i«onft 

caves  and  gloomy  forests ;  also  of  a  lake  so  mys-      ^"     ^^ 
terious  and  terrible  that  there  was  none  like  it  in  «''"-2^"^'^  ® 
the  world.     God  be  with  us  !  BauflDtet. 

On  the  fifth  day  of  our  journey,  while  but  a 
short  distance  beyond  the  city  of  Salzburg,  we 
saw  a  strange  and  ominous  sight.  On  the  horizon, 
directly  in  our  front,  lay  a  bank  of  mighty  clouds,  .  ■ 
with  many  gray  points  and  patches  of  darker  hue, 
and  above,  between  them  and  the  blue  sky,  a  second 
firmament  of  perfect  white.  This  spectacle  greatly 
puzzled  and  alarmed  us.  The  clouds  had  no 
movement ;  we  watched  them  for  hours  and  could 
see  no  change.  Later  in  the  afternoon,  when  the 
sun  was  sinking  into  the  west,  they  became  ablaze 
with  light.  They  glowed  and  gleamed  in  a  wonder- 
ful manner,  and  looked  at  times  as  if  they  were  on 
fire  ! 

No  one  can  imagine  our  surprise  when  we  dis- 
covered that  what  we  had  mistaken  for  clouds 
were  simply  earth  and  rock.  These,  then,  Avere 
the  mountains  of  which  we  had  heard  so  much, 
and  the  white  firmament  was  nothing  else  than 
the  snowy  summit  of  the  range  —  Avhich  the 
Lutherans  say  their  faith  can  remove.  I  greatly 
doubt  it. 


II. 


HEX  we  stood  at  the  opening 
of  the  pass  leading  into  the 
mountains  we  were  overcome 
with  dejection ;  it  looked 
like  the  mouth  of  Hell. 
Behind  us  lay  the  beautiful 
country  through  which  we 
had  come,  and  which  now  we  were  compelled  to 
leave  forever  ;  before  us  frowned  the  mountains 
with  their  inhospitable  gorges  and  haunted  forests, 
forbidding  to  the  sight  and  full  of  peril  to  the 
body  and  the  soul.  Strengthening  our  hearts 
with  prayer  and  whispering  anathemas  against 
evil  spirits,  we  entered  the  narrow  pass  in  the 
name  of  God,  and  pressed  forward,  prepared  to 
suffer  whatever  might  befall. 

As  we  proceeded  cautiously  on  our  way  giant 
trees  barred  our  progress  and  dense  foliage  almost 
shut  out  the  light  of  day,  the  darkness  being  deep 
and  chill.  The  sound  of  our  footfalls  and  of  our 
voices,  when  we  dared  to  speak,  was  returned  to  us 

15 


E\)t  i«onft  16 

anU  tte 


JQanjjman's 
33auiitt«. 


from  the  great  rocks  bordering  tlie  jiass,  with  such 
distinctness  and  so  many  repetitions,  yet  withal  so 
changed,  that  we  could  hardly  believe  we  were  not 
accompanied  by  troops  of  invisible  beings  Avho 
mocked  us  and  made  a  sport  of  our  fears.  Great 
birds  of  prey,  startled  from  their  nests  in  the  tree- 
tops  and  the  sides  of  the  cliffs,  perched  upon  high 
pinnacles  of  rock  and  eyed  us  malignly  as  we 
passed ;  vultures  and  ravens  croaked  above  us  in 
hoarse  and  savage  tones  that  made  our  blood  run 
cold.  Nor  could  our  prayers  and  hymns  give  us 
peace ;  they  only  called  forth  other  fowl  and  by 
their  own  echoes  multiplied  the  dreadful  noises 
that  beset  us.  It  surprised  us  to  observe  that 
huge  trees  had  been  plucked  out  of  the  earth  by 
the  roots  and  hurled  down  the  sides  of  the  hills, 
and  we  shuddered  to  think  by  what  powerful 
hands  this  had  been  done.  At  times  we  passed 
along  the  edges  of  high  precipices,  and  the  dark 
chasms  that  yawned  below  were  a  terrible  sight. 
A  storm  arose,  and  we  were  half-blinded  by  the 
fires  of  heaven  and  stunned  by  thunder  a  thousand 
times  louder  than  we  had  ever  heard.  Our  fears 
were  at  last  worked  up  to  so  great  a  degree  that 
we  expected  every  minute  to  see  some  devil  from 
Hell  leap  from  behind  a  rock  in  our  front,  or  a, 


anO  tijc 
ferocious  bear  appear  from  the  undergrowth  to  wanaman'a 
dispute  our  progress.     But  only   deer  and   foxes    jjaunMct. 
crossed  our  path,  and   our  fears  were  somewhat 
quieted  to  perceive  that  our  blessed  Saint  was  no 
less  powerful  in  the  mountains  than  on  the  plains 
below. 

At  length  we  reached  the  bank  of  a  stream 
whose  silvery  waters  presented  a  most  refreshing 
sight.  In  its  crystal  depths  between  the  rocks  we 
could  see  beautiful  golden  trout  as  large  as  the 
carp  in  the  pond  of  our  monastery  at  Passau. 
Even  in  these  wild  places  Heaven  had  provided 
bountifully  for  the  fasting  of  the  faithful. 

Beneath  the  black  pines  and  close  to  the  large 
lichen-covered  rocks  bloomed  rare  flowers  of  dark 
blue  and  golden  yellow.  Brother  ^gidius,  who 
was  as  learned  as  pious,  knew  them  from  his  her- 
barium and  told  us  their  names.  We  were 
delighted  by  the  sight  of  various  brilliant  beetles 
and  butterflies  which  had  come  out  of  their  hiding- 
places  after  the  rain.  We  gathered  handfuls  of 
flowers  and  chased  the  pretty  winged  insects,  for- 
getting our  fears  and  prayers,  the  bears  and  evil 
spirits,  in  the  exuberance  of  our  Jo3^ 

For  many  hours  we  had  not  seen  a  dwelling  nor 
a  human  being.     Deeper  and  deeper  we  penetrated 


Srte  jaonfe  18 

the  mountain  region  ;  greater  and  greater  became 
the  difficulties  we  experienced  in  forest  and  ravine, 
and  all  the  horrors  of  the  wilderness  that  we  had 
already  passed  were  repeated,  but  without  so  great 
an  effect  upon  our  souls,  for  we  all  perceived  that 
the  good  God  was  preserving  us  for  longer  service 
to  Ilis  lioly  will.  A  branch  of  the  friendly  river 
lay  in  our  course,  and,  approaching  it,  we  were 
delighted  to  find  it  spanned  by  a  rough  but  sub- 
stantial bridge.  As  we  were  about  to  cross  I  hap- 
pened to  cast  my  eyes  to  the  other  shore,  where  I 
saw  a  sight  that  made  my  blood  turn  cold  with 
terror.  On  the  opposite  bank  of  the  stream  was 
a  meadow,  covered  with  beautiful  flowers,  and  in 
the  center  a  gallows  upon  which  hung  the  body  of 
a  man  !  The  face  was  turned  toward  us,  and  I 
could  plainly  distinguish  the  features,  which, 
thougli  black  and  distorted,  showed  unmistakable 
signs  that  death  had  come  that  very  day. 

I  was  upon  the  point  of  directing  my  com- 
panions' attention  to  the  dreadful  sj)ectacle, 
when  a  strange  incident  occurred  :  on  the 
meadow  appeared  a  young  girl,  with  long 
golden  hair,  upon  which  rested  a  wreath  of 
blossoms.  8he  wore  a  bright  red  dress,  which 
seemed  to  me  to  light   up   the   whole  scene  like 


1^  Ctje  i«onfi: 

a  flame  of  fire.  Nothing  in  her  actions  indi-  ^"^  *^^ 
cated  fear  of  the  corpse  npon  the  gallows ;  on  ?9angtnan's 
the  contrary,  she  glided  toward  it  barefooted  33au2i)ter, 
through  the  grass,  singing  in  a  loud  but  sweet 
voice,  and  waving  her  arms  to  scare  away  the 
birds  of  prey  that  had  gathered  about  it,  utter- 
ing harsh  cries  and  with  a  great  buffeting  of 
wings  and  snapping  of  beaks.  At  the  girl's  aja- 
proach  they  all  took  flight,  except  one  great 
vulture,  which  retained  its  perch  upon  the  gal- 
lows and  appeared  to  defy  and  threaten  her. 
She  ran  close  up  to  the  obscene  creature,  jump- 
ing, dancing,  screaming,  until  it,  too,  put  out 
its  wide  wings  and  flapped  heavily  away.  Then 
she  ceased  her  dancing,  and,  taking  a  position 
at  the  gibbet's  foot,  calmly  and  thoughtfully 
looked  up  at  the  swinging  body  of  the  unfortu- 
nate man. 

The  maiden's  singing  had  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  my  companions,  and  we  all  stood  watch- 
ing the  lovely  child  and  her  strange  surroundings 
with  too  much  amazement  to  speak. 

While  gazing  on  the  surprising  scene,  I  felt  a 
cold  shiver  run  through  my  body.  This  is  said 
to  be  a  sure  sign  that  some  one  has  stepped 
upon    the    spot    which    is    to    be    your    grave. 


mn  m  Strange  to  say,  I  felt  tliis  chill  at  the  moment 
J^anamnn's  ^}^q  maiden  stei-)ped  under  the  gallows.  But 
IDau2l)ter.  -j^j^jg  q-^\j  gjjows  how  the  true  beliefs  of  men  are 
mixed  up  with  foolish  superstitions ;  for  how 
could  a  sincere  follower  of  Saint  Franciscus  pos- 
sibly come  to  be  buried  beneath  a  gallows  ? 

"Let  us  hasten,"  I  said  to  my  companions,  "and 
pray  for  the  soul  of  the  dead." 

We  soon  found  our  way  to  the  spot,  and,  without 
raising  our  eyes,  said  prayers  with  great  fervor; 
especially  did  I,  for  my  heart  was  full  of  compas- 
sion for  the  poor  sinner  Avho  hung  above.  I  recalled 
the  words  of  God,  who  said,  "Vengeance  is  mine," 
and  remembered  that  the  dear  Savior  had  par- 
doned the  thief  upon  the  cross  at  His  side ;  and  who 
knows  that  there  were  not  mercy  and  forgiveness  for 
this  poor  wretch  who  had  died  upon  the  gallows  ? 

On  our  approach  the  maiden  had  retired  a  short 
distance,  not  knowing  what  to  make  of  us  and  our 
prayers.  Suddenly,  however,  in  the  midst  of  our  de- 
votions, I  heard  her  sweet,  bell-like  tones  exclaim  : 
"  The  vulture  !  the  vulture  ! "  aud  her  voice  was 
agitated,  as  if  she  felt  great  fear.  I  looked  uji  aud 
saw  a  great  gray  bird  above  the  pines,  swooping 
downward.  It  showed  no  fear  of  us,  our  sacred 
calling  and  our  pious  rite§.     My  brothers,  how- 


2-1  5Ct)c  l^aonft 

anti  tte 
ever,  were  indignant  at  the  interruption  caused  by  ^anflmcin's 
the  child's  voice,  and  scolded  her.     But  I  said  :    jDaujjtter. 
"  The  girl  is  probabl}^  a  relation  of  the  dead  man. 
Now  think  of  it,  brothers  ;  this  terrible  bird  comes 
to  tear  the  flesh  from  his  face  and  feed  upon  his 
hands  and  his  body.  •   It  is  only  natural  that  she 
should  cry  out." 

One  of  the  brothers  said  :  "  Go  to  her,  Ambro- 
sius,  and  command  her  to  be  silent  that  we  may 
pray  in  peace  for  the  departed  soul  of  this  sinful 
man." 

I  walked  among  the  fragrant  flowers  to  where 
the  girl  stood  with  her  eyes  still  fixed  upon  the 
vulture,  which  swung  in  ever  narrowing  circles 
about  the  gallows.  Against  a  mass  of  silvery 
flowers  on  a  bush  by  which  she  stood  the  maid's 
exquisite  figure  showed  to  advantage,  as  I  wickedly 
permitted  myself  to  observe.  Perfectly  erect  and 
motionless,  she  watched  my  advance,  though  I 
marked  a  terrified  look  in  her  large,  dark  eyes,  as 
if  she  feared  that  I  would  do  her  harm.  Even 
when  I  was  quite  near  her  she  made  no  movement 
to  come  forward,  as  women  and  children  usually 
did,  and  kiss  my  hands. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  I  said,  "  and  what  are  you  do- 
ing in  this  dreadful  place  all  alone  ?  " 


33aufll)ter. 


Srte  ifeionft  22 

anil  t\)e 

She  did  not  answer  me,  and  made  neither  sign 

nor  motion  ;  so  I  repeated  my  question  : 

"  Tell  me,  child,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"Scaring  away  the  vultures,"  she  replied,  in  a 
soft,  musical  voice,  inexj)rcssibly  pleasing. 

"  Are  you  a  relation  of  the  dead  man  ?  "  I  asked. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"You  knew  him  ?"  J  continued,  "and  you  ])\tj 
his  unchristian  death  ?  " 

But  she  was  again  silent,  and  I  had  to  renew 
my  questioning  :  "  What  was  his  name,  and  why 
was  he  put  to  death  ?  What  crime  did  he 
commit  ?  " 

"His  name  was  Nathaniel  Alfinger,  and  he 
killed  a  man  for  a  woman,"  said  the  maiden,  dis- 
tinctly and  in  the  most  unconcerned  manner  that 
it  is  possible  to  conceive,  as  if  murder  and  hanging 
were  the  commonest  and  most  uninteresting  of  all 
events.  I  was  astounded,  and  gazed  at  her  sharply, 
but  her  look  was  passive  and  calm,  denoting 
nothing  unusual. 

"Did  you  know  Nathaniel  Alfinger  ?" 

"No." 

"Yet  you  came  here  to  protect  his  corpse  from 
the  fowls  ?  " 

"Yes." 


"Till  me,  child,  what  are  yoit  doing  here?' 


23  me  morOi 

ana  tije 


"  Why  do  you  do  that  service  to  one  whom  you 
did  not  know  ?  " 

"  I  always  do  so. " 

"How !" 

"Always  when  any  one  is  hanged  here  I  come 
and  frighten  away  the  birds  and  make  them  find 
other  food.     See  —  there  is  another  vulture  !  " 

She  uttered  a  wild,  high  scream,  threw  her  arms 
above  her  head,  and  ran  across  tlie  meadow  so  that 
I  thought  her  mad.  The  big  bird  flew  away,  and 
the  maiden  came  quietly  back  to  me,  and,  pressing 
her  sun-burnt  hands  upon  her  breast,  sighed 
deeply,  as  from  fatigue.  Witli  as  much  mildness 
as  I  could  put  into  my  voice,  I  asked  her  : 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"Benedicta." 

"  And  who  are  your  parents  ?  " 

"My  mother  is  dead." 

"  But  your  father  —  where  is  he  ?  " 

She  was  silent.  Then  I  pressed  her  to  tell  me 
where  she  lived,  for  I  wanted  to  take  the  poor 
child  home  and  admonish  her  father  to  have  better 
care  of  his  daughter  and  not  let  her  stray  into 
such  dreadful  places  again. 

"  Where  do  you  live,  Benedicta  ?  I  pray  you 
tell  me." 


jBlangntan's 
3i9auBf)tet. 


anlr  tl)e         "Here." 
?t}anBman's     u  -yyj^^^  ;  i^^^^  9     Ah,  my  child,  here  is  only  the 
JBaufltter.  gallows." 

She  23ointed  toward  the  pines.  Following  the 
direction  of  her  finger,  I  saw  among  the  trees  a 
wretched  hut  which  looked  like  a  habitation  more 
fit  for  animals  than  human  beings.  Then  I  knew 
better  than  she  could  have  told  me  whose  child 
she  was. 

When  I  returned  to  my  companions  and  they 
asked  me  wdio  the  girl  was,  I  answered :  "  The 
hangman's  daughter." 


III. 


>VvI)i\  AVING  commended  the  soul 
of  tlie  dead  man  to  the  in- 
tercession of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  and  the  Holy  Saints, 
we  left  the  accursed  spot, 
but  as  we  withdrew  I  looked 
back  at  the  lovely  child  of  the  liangman.  She 
stood  where  I  had  left  her,  looking  after  us.  Her 
fair  white  brow  was  still  crowned  with  the  wreath 
of  primroses,  which  gave  an  added  charm  to  her 
wonderful  beauty  of  feature  and  expression,  and 
her  large,  dark  eyes  shone  like  the  stars  of  a  winter 
midnight.  My  companions,  to  whom  the  hang- 
man's daughter  was  a  most  unchristian  object, 
reproved  me  for  the  interest  that  I  manifested  in 
her  ;  but  it  made  me  sad  to  think  this  sweet 
and  beautiful  child  was  shunned  and  despised 
through  no  fault  of  her  own.  Why  should  she  be 
made  to  suffer  blame  because  of  her  father's  dread- 
ful calling  ?  And  was  it  not  the  purest  Christian 
charity  which  prompted  this  innocent  maiden  to 

25 


SCjjc  ittonfe  "26 


JIgangman's 
JBauflljter. 


keep  the  vultures  from  the  body  of  a  fellow- 
creature  whom  in  life  she  had  not  even  known 
and  who  had  been  adjudged  unworthy  to  live  ? 
It  seemed  to  me  a  more  kindly  act  than  that  of 
any  professed  Christian  who  bestows  money  upon 
the  poor.  Expressing  these  feelings  to  my  com- 
panions, I  found,  to  my  sorrow,  that  they  did  not 
share  them ;  on  the  contrary,  I  was  called  a 
dreamer  and  a  fool  who  wished  to  overthrow  the 
ancient  and  wholesome  customs  of  the  Avorld. 
Every  one,  they  said,  was  bound  to  execrate  the 
class  to  which  the  hangman  and  his  family  be- 
longed, for  all  who  associated  with  such  people 
would  surely  be  contaminated.  I  had,  however, 
the  temerity  to  remain  steadfast  in  my  conviction, 
and  with  due  humility  questioned  the  justice  of 
treating  such  people  as  criminals,  because  they 
were  a  part  of  the  law's  machinery  by  which  crim- 
inals were  punished.  Because  in  the  church  the 
hangman  and  his  family  had  a  dark  corner 
specially  set  apart  for  them,  that  could  not  absolve 
us  from  our  duty  as  servants  of  the  Lord  to  preach 
the  gospel  of  justice  and  mercy  and  give  an 
example  of  Christian  love  and  charity.  But  my 
brothers  grew  very  angry  with  me,  and  the  wilder- 
ness rang  with  their  loud  vociferations,  so  that  I 


27  5i:j)e  ^onft 

began  to  feel  as  if  I  were  very  wicked,  although  ^^ 

unable  to  perceive  my  error.  I  could  do  nothing  ™*'"3^"'"^  ^ 
but  hope  that  Heaven  would  be  more  merciful  to  *^^^S,Wv* 
us  all  than  we  are  to  one  another.  In  thinking  of 
the  maiden  it  gave  me  comfort  to  know  that  her 
name  was  Benedicta.  Perhaps  her  parents  had  so 
named  her  as  a  means  of  blessing  one  whom  no 
one  else  would  ever  bless. 

But  I  must  relate  what  a  wonderful  country  it 
was  into  Avhicli  we  were  now  arrived.  Were  we 
not  assured  that  all  the  world  is  the  Lord's,  for  He 
made  it,  we  might  be  tempted  to  think  such  a  wild 
region  the  kingdom  of  the  Evil  One. 

Far  down  below  our  path  the  river  roared  and 
foamed  between  great  clififs,  the  gray  j)oints  of 
which  seemed  to  pierce  the  very  sky.  On  our  left, 
as  we  gradually  rose  out  of  this  chasm,  was  a  black 
forest  of  pines,  frightful  to  see,  and  in  front  of  us 
a  most  formidable  peak.  This  mountain,  despite 
its  terrors,  had  a  comical  appearance,  for  it  was 
white  and  pointed  like  a  fool's  cap,  and  looked  as 
if  some  one  had  put  a  flour-sack  on  the  knave's 
head.  After  all  it  was  nothing  but  snow.  Snov/ 
in  the  middle  of  the  glorious  month  of  May  !  — 
surely  the  works  of  God  are  wonderful  and  almost 
past  belief  !     The  thought  came  to  me  that  if  this 


SClje  ittonft  28 

^^  ^^  old  mountain  should  shake  his  head  the  whole 
jtjansma  j-egion  would  be  full  of  flying  snow. 
JDauflt)  ex.  y^j^  ^vere  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  that  in 
various  places  along  our  road  the  forest  had  been 
cleared  away  for  a  space  large  enough  to  build  a 
hut  and  plant  a  garden.  Some  of  these  rude 
dwellings  stood  where  one  would  have  thought 
that  only  eagles  would  have  been  bold  enough  to 
build  ;  but  there  is  no  place,  it  seems,  free  from 
the  intrusion  of  Man,  who  stretches  out  his  hand 
for  everything,  even  that  which  is  in  the  air. 
When  at  length  we  arrived  at  our  destination  and 
beheld  the  temple  and  the  house  erected  in  this 
wilderness  to  the  name  and  glory  of  our  beloved 
Saint,  our  hearts  were  thrilled  with  pious  emo- 
tions. Upon  the  surface  of  a  pine-covered  rock 
was  a  cluster  of  huts  and  houses,  the  monastery  in 
the  midst,  like  a  shepherd  surrounded  by  his 
flock.  The  church  and  monastery  were  of  hewn 
stone,  of  noble  architecture,  spacious  and  comfort- 
able. 

May  the  good  Good  bless  our  entrance  into  this 
holy  place. 


IV. 


HAVE  now  been  in  this 
wilderness  for  several 
weeks,  but  the  Lord,  too, 
is  here,  as  everywliere. 
My  health  is  good,  and  this 
house  of  our  beloved  Saint 
is  a  stronghold  of  the 
Faith,  a  house  of  peace,  an  asylum  for  those  who 
flee  from  the  wrath  of  the  Evil  One,  a  rest  for  all 
who  bear  the  burden  of  sorrow.  Of  myself,  how- 
ever, I  cannot  say  so  much.  I  am  young,  and, 
although  my  mind  is  at  peace,  I  have  so  little  ex- 
perience of  the  world  and  its  ways  that  I  feel  my- 
self peculiarly  liable  to  error  and  accessible  to  sin. 
The  course  of  my  life  is  like  a  rivulet  which  draws 
its  silver  thread  smoothly  and  silently  through 
friendly  fields  and  flowery  meadows,  yet  knows 
that  when  the  storms  come  and  the  rains  fall  it 
may  become  a  raging  torrent,  defiled  with  earth 
and  whirling  away  to  the  sea  the  wreckage  attest- 
ing the  madness  of  its  passion  and  its  power. 
Not  sorrow  nor  despair  drew  me  away  from  the 


2rt)c  p^onft  30 


Jj^anfiman's 
BauQttet. 


world  into  the  sacred  retreat  of  the  Church,  but  a 
sincere  desire  to  serve  the  Lord.  My  only  wish  is 
to  belong  to  my  beloved  Saint,  to  obey  the  blessed 
mandates  of  the  Church,  and,  as  a  servant  of  God, 
to  be  charitable  to  all  mankind,  whom  I  dearly 
love.  The  Church  is,  in  truth,  my  beloved 
mother,  for,  my  parents  having  died  in  my 
infancy  I,  too,  might  have  perished  without  care 
had  she  not  taken  pity  on  me,  fed  and  clothed  me 
and  reared  me  as  her  own  child.  And,  oh,  what 
happiness  there  will  be  for  me,  poor  monk,  when 
I  am  ordained  and  receive  holy  orders  as  a  priest 
of  the  Most  High  God  !  Always  I  think  and 
dream  of  it  and  try  to  prepare  my  soul  for  that 
high  and  sacred  gift.  I  know  I  can  never  be 
worthy  of  this  great  happiness,  but  I  do  hojie 
to  be  an  honest  and  sincere  priest,  serving  God 
and  Man  according  to  the  light  that  is  given  from 
above.  I  often  pray  Heaven  to  put  me  to  the  test 
of  temptation,  that  I  may  pass  through  the  fire 
unscathed  and  purified  in  mind  and  soul.  As  it 
is,  I  feel  the  sovereign  peace  which,  in  this  soli- 
tude, lulls  my  spirit  to  sleep,  and  all  life's  tempta- 
tions and  trials  seem  far  away,  like  perils  of  the 
sea  to  one  who  can  but  faintly  hear  the  distant 
thunder  of  the  waves  upon  the  beach, 


V. 


UR  Superior,  Father  An- 
dreas, is  a  mild  and  pious 
gentleman.  Our  brothers 
live  in  peace  and  harmony. 
They  are  not  idle,  neither 
are  they  worldly  nor  ar- 
rogant. They  are  tem- 
perate, not  indulging  too  much  in  the  j^leasures  of 
the  table  —  a  praiseworthy  moderation,  for  all 
this  region,  far  and  wide  —  the  hills  and  the  val- 
leys, the  river  and  forest,  with  all  that  they  contain 
—  belongs  to  the  monastery.  The  woods  are  full 
of  all  kinds  of  game,  of  which  the  choicest  is 
brought  to  our  table,  and  we  relish  it  exceed- 
ingly. In  our  monastery  a  drink  is  prejaared  from 
malt  and  barley — a  strong,  bitter  drink,  refresh- 
ing after  fatigue,  but  not,  to  my  taste,  very  good. 
The  most  remarkable  thing  in  this  part  of  the 
country  is  the  salt-mining.  I  am  told  that  the 
mountains  are  full  of   salt  —  how  wonderful  are 

the    works    of    the   Lord  !     In    pursuit    of    this 
31 


antr  tf)e 

Ji^anjiman's 

Dau2|)tet. 


32 

miueral  Man  has  penetrated  deep  into  the  howels 
of  the  earth  by  means  of  shafts  and  tunnels,  and 
brings  forth  tlie  bitter  marrow  of  the  hills  into 
the  light  of  the  sun.  The  salt  I  have  mj'self  seen 
in  red,  brown  and  yellow  crystals.  The  works 
give  employment  to  our  peasants  and  their  sons, 
with  a  few  foreign  laborers,  all  under  the  com- 
mand of  an  overseer,  who  is  known  as  the  Salt- 
master.  He  is  a  stern  man,  exercising  great 
power,  but  our  Superior  and  the  brothers  speak 
little  good  of  him  —  not  from  any  unchristian 
spirit,  but  because  his  actions  are  evil.  The  Salt- 
master  has  an  only  son.  His  name  is  Rochus,  a 
handsome  but  wild  and  wicked  youth. 


VI. 


HE  people  hereabout  are  a 
proud,  stubborn  race.  I  am 
told  that  iu  an  old  chronicle 
they  are  described  as  de- 
scendants of  the  Romans, 
who  in  their  day  drove 
many  tunnels  into  these 
mountains  to  get  out  the  precious  salt ;  and  some 
of  these  tunnels  are  still  in  existence.  From  the 
window  of  my  cell  I  can  see  these  giant  hills  and 
the  black  forests  which  ,at  sunset  burn  like  great 
fire-brands  along  the  crests  against  the  sky. 

The  forefathers  of  these  people  (after  the 
Romans)  were,  I  am  told,  more  stubborn  still  than 
they  are,  and  continued  in  idolatry  after  all  the 
neighboring  peoples  had  accepted  the  cross  of  the 
Lord  our  Savior.  Now,  however,  they  bow  their 
stiff  necks  to  the  sacred  symbol  and  soften  their 
hearts  to  receive  the  living  truth.  Powerful  as 
they  are  in  body,  in  spirit  they  are  humble  and 
obedient  to  the  Word.  Nowhere  else  did  the  peo- 
ple kiss  my  hand  so  fervently  as  here,  although  I 

3  33 


an6  tfie  ^^  ^^^  ^  priest  —  an  evidence  of  tlie  power  and 
^anflman»«  victory  of  our  glorious  faith. 
JBauflliUt.  Physically  they  are  strong  and  exceedingly 
handsome  in  face  and  figure,  especially  the  young 
men  ;  the  elder  men,  too,  walk  as  erect  and  proud, 
as  kings.  The  women  have  long  golden  hair, 
which  they  braid  and  twist  about  their  heads  very 
beautifully,  and  they  love  to  adorn  themselves 
with  jewels.  Some  have  eyes  whose  dark  bril- 
liancy rivals  the  luster  of  the  rubies  and  garnets 
they  wear  about  their  Avhite  necks.  I  am  told, 
that  the  young  men  fight  for  the  young  women 
as  stags  for  does.  Ah,  what  wicked  passions  exist 
in  the  hearts  of  men  !  But  since  I  know  nothing 
of  these  things,  nor  shall  ever  feel  such  unholy 
emotions,  I  must  not  judge  and  condemn. 

Lord,  what  a  blessing  is  the  peace  with  which 
Thou  hast  filled  the  spirits  of  those  who  are  Thine 
own  !  Behold,  there  is  no  turmoil  in  my  breast : 
all  is  calm  there  as  in  the  soul  of  a  babe  which 
calls  "Abba,"  dear  Father.  And  so  may  it  ever 
be. 


VII. 


HAVE-  again  seen  the  hang- 
man's beautiful  daughter. 
As  the  bells  were  chiming 
for  mass  I  saw  her  in  front 
of  the  monastery  church. 
I  had  just  come  from  the 
bedside  of  a  sick  man,  and 
as  my  thoughts  were  gloomy  the  sight  of  her  face 
was  pleasant,  and  I  should  have  liked  to  greet  her, 
but  her  eyes  were  cast  down  :  she  did  not  notice 
me.  The  square  in  front  of  the  church  was  filled 
with  people,  the  men  and  youths  on  one  side,  on 
the  other  the  women  and  maidens  all  clad  in  their 
high  hats  and  adorned  with  their  gold  chains. 
They  stood  close  together,  but  when  the  poor  child 
approached  all  stepped  aside,  whispering  and  look- 
ing askance  at  her  as  if  she  were  an  accursed 
leper  and  they  feared  infection. 

Compassion  filled  my  breast,  compelling  me  to 
follow  the  maiden,  and,  overtaking  her,  I  said 
aloud:  " God  greet  you,  Benedicta." 

35 


ant)  tt)e 

JUganfiman's 

9aus|)ter« 


36 

She  shrank  away  as  if  frightened,  then,  looking 
up,  recognized  me,  seemed  astonished,  bhished 
again  and  again,  finally  hung  her  head  in  silence. 

"  Do  you  fear  to  speak  to  me  ?  "  I  asked. 

But  she  made  no  reply.  Again  I  spoke  to  her  : 
"  Do  good,  obey  the  Lord  and  fear  no  one  :  then 
shall  you  be  saved." 

At  this  she  drew  a  long  sigh,  and  replied  in  a  low 
voice,  hardly  more  than  a  whisper  :  "  1  thank  you, 
my  lord." 

"I  am  not  a  lord,  Benedicta,"  I  said,  "but  a 
poor  servant  of  God,  who  is  a  gracious  and  kind 
Father  to  all  His  children,  however  lowly  their 
estate.  Pray  to  Him  when  your  heart  is  heavy,  and 
He  will  be  near  you." 

While  I  spoke  she  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at 
me  like  a  sad  child  that  is  being  comforted  by  its 
mother.  And,  still  speaking  to  her  out  of  the 
great  compassion  in  my  heart,  I  led  her  into  the 
church  before  all  the  people. 

But  do  thou,  0  holy  Franciscus,  pardon  the  sin 
that  I  committed  during  that  high  sacrament ! 
For  while  Father  Andreas  was  reciting  the  solemn 
words  of  the  mass  my  eyes  constantly  wandered  to 
the  spot  where  the  poor  child  knelt  in  a  dark 
corner  set  apart  for  her  and  her  father,  forsaken 


37  2C|)e  IWonft 

ana  tjjje 


and  alone.  She  seemed  to  pray  with  holy  zeal, 
and  surely  thou  didst  grace  her  with  a  ray  of  thy 
favor,  for  it  was  through  thy  love  of  mankind  that 
thou  didst  become  a  great  saint,  and  didst  bring 
before  the  Throne  of  Grace  thy  large  heart,  bleed- 
ing for  tlie  sins  of  all  the  world.  Then  shall  not 
I,  the  humblest  of  thy  followers,  have  enough  of 
thy  spirit  to  pity  this  poor  outcast  who  suffers  for 
no  sin  of  her  own  ?  Nay,  I  feel  for  her  a  peculiar 
tenderness,  which  I  cannot  help  accepting  as  a 
sign  from  Heaven  that  I  am  charged  with  a  special 
mandate  to  watch  over  her,  to  jirotect  her,  and 
finally  to  save  her  soul. 


jB^anaman'a 
3Bausf)ter. 


VIII. 


UR  Superior  has  sent  for 
mc  and  rebuked  me.  He 
told  me  I  liad  caused  great 
ill-feeling  among  the 
brothers  and  the  people, 
and  asked  what  devil  had 
me  in  possession  that  I 
should  walk  into  church  with  the  daughter  of  the 
public  hangman. 

What  could  I  say  but  that  I  pitied  the  poor 
maiden  and  could  not  do  otherwise  than  as  I 
did? 

"  Why  did  you  pity  her  ?  "  he  asked. 
"Because  all  the  people  shun  her,"  I  replied, 
"as  if  she  were  mortal  sin  itself,  and  because  she  is 
wholly  blameless.  It  certainly  is  not  her  fault  that 
her  father  is  a  hangman,  nor  his  either,  since,  alas, 
hangmen  must  be." 

Ah,    beloved    Franciscus,    how    the    Superior 
scolded  thy  poor  servant  for  these  bold  words. 
"And  do  you  repent?"    he    demanded  at  the 

39 


close  of  his  reproof.  But  how  could  I  repent 
01  my  compassion  —  incited,  as  1  verily  believe, 
by  onr  beloved  Saint  ? 

*  On  learning  my  obduracy,  the  Superior  be- 
came very  sad.  He  gave  me  a  long  lecture  and 
put  me  under  hard  penance.  I  took  my  pun- 
ishment meekly  and  in  silence,  and  am  now 
confined  in  my  cell,  fasting  and  chastising  my- 
self. Nor  in  this  do  I  spare  myself  at  all,  for 
it  is  happiness  to  suffer  for  the  sake  of  one  so 
unjustly  treated  as  the  poor  friendless  child. 

I  stand  at  the  grating  of  my  cell,  looking  out 
at  the  dark,  mysterious  mountains  showing 
black  against  the  evening  sky.  The  weather 
being  mild,  I  open  the  window  behind  the  bars 
to  admit  the  fresh  air  and  better  to  hear  the 
song  of  the  stream  below,  which  speaks  to  me 
with  a  divine  companionship,  gentle  and  con- 
soling. 

I  know  not  if  I  have  already  mentioned  that 
the  monastery  is  ])uilt  upon  a  rock  high  over 
the  river.  Directly  under  the  windows  of  our 
cells  are  the  rugged  edges  of  great  cliffs,  which 
none  can  scale  but  at  tlie  peril  of  his  life. 
Imagine,  then,  my  astonishment  when  I  saw  a 
living  figure  lift  itself  up  from   the  awful  abyss 


The  pnnr  child  hielt  in  a  daik  conitr. 


41 

by  the  strength  of  its  hands,  and,  drawing  itself 
across  the  edge,  stand  erect  upon  the  very  verge ! 
In  the  dusk  I  could  not  make  out  what  kind  of 
creature  it  was ;  I  thought  it  some  evil  spirit , 
come  to  tempt  me  ;  so  I  crossed  myself  and  said 
a  prayer.  Presently  there  is  a  movement  of  its 
arm,  and  something  flies  through  the  window, 
jjast  my  head,  and  lies  ujoon  the  floor  of  my  cell, 
shiuing  like  a  white  star.  I  bend  and  pick  it 
up.  It  is  a  bunch  of  flowers  such  as  I  have 
never  seen  —  leafless,  white  as  snow,  soft  as  vel- 
vet, and  without  fragrance.  As  I  stand  by  the 
window,  the  better  to  see  the  wondrous  flowers, 
my  eyes  turn  again  to  the  figure  on  the  cliff, 
and  I  hear  a  sweet,  low  voice,  which  says  :  "  I 
am  Benedicta,  and  I  thank  you." 

Ah,  Heaven  !  it  was  the  child,  who,  that  she 
might  greet  me  in  my  loneliness  and  penance, 
had  climbed  the  dreadful  rocks,  heedless  of  the 
danger.  She  knew,  then,  of  my  punishment  — 
knew  that  it  was  for  her.  She  knew  even  the 
very  cell  in  which  I  was  confined.  0  holy 
Saint !  surely  she  could  not  have  known  all  this 
but  from  thee  ;  and  I  were  worse  than  an  infidel 
to  doubt  that  the  feeling  which  I  have  for  her 


anir  tje, 

JIganuman's 

3IDaust)ter. 


3Bau2l)ter. 


etc  J^onk  42 

anil  tj)e 

_g  signifies  that  a  command  has  been  laid  upon  me 

to  save  her. 

I  saw  her  bending  over  the  frightful  precipice. 
She  turned  a  moment  and  waved  her  hand  to  me 
and  disappeared.  I  uttered  an  involuntary  cry  — 
had  she  fallen  ?  I  grasped  the  iron  bars  of  my 
window  and  shook  them  with  all  my  strength,  but 
they  did  not  yield.  In  my  despair  I  threw  myself 
Upon  the  floor,  crying  and  praying  to  all  the  saints 
to  protect  the  dear  child  in  her  dangerous  descent 
if  still  she  lived,  to  iutercede  for  her  unshriven 
soul  if  she  had  fallen.  I  was  still  kneeling  when 
Benedicta  gave  me  a  sign  of  her  safe  arrival  below. 
It  was  such  a  shout  as  these  mountaineers  utter  in 
their  untamed  enjoyment  of  life  —  only  Bene- 
dicta's  shout,  coming  from  far  below  in  the  gorge, 
and  mingled  with  its  own  strange  echoes,  sounded 
like  nothing  I  had  ever  heard  from  any  human 
throat,  and  so  affected  me  that  I  wept,  and  the 
tears  fell  upon  the  wild  flowers  in  my  hands. 


IX. 


S  a  follower  of  Saint  Fran- 
cisciis,  I  am  not  permitted 
to  own  anything  dear  to  my 
heart,  so  I  have  disposed  of 
my  most  precious  treasure  ; 
I  have  presented  to  my  be- 
loved Saint  the  beautiful 
flowers  which  were  Benedicta^s  offering.  They 
are  so  placed  before  his  picture  in  the  monastery 
church  as  to  decorate  the  bleeding  heart  which  he 
carries  uj^on  his  breast  as  a  symbol  of  his  suffering 
for  mankind. 

I  have  learned  the  name  of  the  flower  :  because 
of  its  color,  and  because  it  is  finer  than  other 
flowers,  it  is  called  Edelweiss  —  noble  white.  It 
grows  in  so  rare  perfection  only  wpon  the  highest 
and  wildest  rocks  —  mostly  upon  cliffs,  over 
abysses  many  hundred  feet  in  depth,  where  one 
false  step  would  be  fatal  to  him  who  gathers  it. 

These  beautiful  flowers,  then,  are  the  real  evil 
spirits  of  this  wild  region  :  they  lure  many  mortals 

43 


ant)  tl)e 

_^  ,„  to  a  dreadful  death.     The  brothers  here  have  told 

JS^attjjtnan's 

_  . .  me  that  never  a  year  passes  but  some  shejiherd, 
some  hunter  or  some  bold  youth,  attracted  by 
these  wonderful  blossoms,  is  lost  in  the  attempt  to 
get  them. 

May  God  be  merciful  to  all  their  souls  ! 


MUST  have  turned  pale 
when  one  of  the  brothers 
rej^orted  at  the  supper  table 
that  a  bunch  of  edelweiss 
had  been  found  upon  the 
picture  of  Saint  Franciscus, 
of  such  rare  beauty  as  is 
found  nowhere  else  in  the  country  but  at  the 
summit  of  a  cliff  which  is  more  than  a  thousand 
feet  high,  and  overhangs  a  dreadful  lake.  The 
brothers  tell  wondrous  tales  of  the  horrors  of  this 
lake — how  wild  its  waters  and  how  deep,  and  how 
the  most  hideous  sj^ecters  are  seen  along  its  shores 
or  rising  out  of  it. 

Benedicta's  edelweiss,  therefore,  has  caused 
great  commotion  and  wonder,  for  even  among  the 
boldest  hunters  there  are  few,  indeed,  who  dare  to 
climb  that  cliff  by  the  haunted  lake.  And  the 
tender  child  has  accomplished  this  feat !  She  has 
gone  quite  alone  to  that  horrible  place,  and  has 
climbed  the  almost  vertical  wall  of  the  mountain  to 

45 


5rt)e  ifetonft  46 

^"     ^^      the  green  spot  wliere  the  flowers  grow  with  which 

?San2man'»  ^^^  ^^^  moved  to   greet  me.     I  doubt   not  that 

oyauflp     .    jjg^ygj^  guarded  her  against  mishap  in  order  that 

I  might  have  a  visible  sign  and  token  that  I  am 

charged  with  the  duty  of  her  salvation. 

Ah,  thou  poor  sinless  child,  accurst  in  the  eyes 
of  the  people,  God  hath  signified  His  care  of  thee, 
and  in  my  heart  I  feel  already  something  of  that 
adoration  which  shall  be  thy  due  when  for  thy 
purity  and  holiness  He  shall  bestow  upon  thy 
relics  some  signal  mark  of  His  favor,  and  the 
Church  shall  declare  thee  blessed  ! 

I  have  learned  another  thing  which  I  will 
chronicle  here.  In  this  country  these  flowers  are 
the  sign  of  a  faithful  love  :  the  youth  presents 
them  to  his  sweetheart,  and  the  maidens  decorate 
the  hats  of  their  lovers  with  them.  It  is  clear 
that,  in  expressing  her  gratitude  to  a  humble  serv- 
ant of  the  Church,  Benedicta  was  moved,  per- 
haps without  knowing  it,  to  signify  at  the  same 
time  her  love  of  the  Church  itself,  although,  alas, 
she  has  yet  too  little  cause. 

As  I  ramble  about  here,  day  after  day,  I  am 
becoming  familar  with  every  path  in  the  forest,  in 
the  dark  pass,  and  on  the- slopes  of  the  mountains. 

I  am  often  sent  to  the  homes  of  the  peasants. 


47  Sije  ittonS; 


the  hunters  and  the  shepherds,  to  carry  either 
medicine  to  the  sick  or  consolation  to  the  sad. 
The  most  reverend  Superior  has  told  me  that  as 
soon  as  I  receive  holy  orders  I  shall  have  to  carry 
the  sacraments  to  the  dying,  for  I  am  the  young- 
est and  strongest  of  the  brothers.  In  these  high 
places  it  sometimes  occurs  that  a  hunter  or  a 
shepherd  falls  from  the  rocks,  and  after  some  days 
is  found,  still  living.  It  is  then  the  duty  of  the 
priest  to  perform  the  offices  of  our  holy  religion  at 
the  bedside  of  the  sufferer,  so  that  the  blessed 
Savior  may  be  there  to  receive  the  departing 
soul. 

That  I  may  be  worthy  of  such  grace,  may  our 
beloved  Saint  keep  my  heart  pure  from  every 
earthly  passion  and  desire  ! 


Jtjanaman's 
IDauflttei;. 


Hekiud  him  rode  Jioc/nts,  his  son. 


XL 


HE  monastery  has  celebrated 
a  great  festival,  and  I  will 
report  all  that  occurred. 

For  many  days  before 
the  event  the  brothers 
were  busy  preparing  for  it. 
Some  decorated  the  church 
with  sprays  of  pine  and  birch  and-'with  flowers. 
They  went  with  the  other  men  and  gathered  the 
most  beautiful  Alpine  roses  they  could  find,  and 
as  it  is  midsummer  they  grow  in  great  abundance. 
On  the  day  before  the  festival  the  brothers  sat 
in  the  garden,  weaving  garlands  to  adorn  the 
church ;  even  the  most  reverend  Superior  and  the 
fathers  took  pleasure  in  our  merry  task.  They 
walked  beneath  the  trees  and  chatted  pleasantly 
while  encouraging  the  brother  butler  to  spend 
freely  the  contents  of  the  cellars. 

The  next  morning  was  the  holy  procession.  It 
was  very  beautiful  to  see,  and  added  to  the  glory 
of  our  holy  Church.     The  Superior  walked  under 

4  49 


S:i)e  ptontt  50 

anlr  tf)e 


Jj^anflman's 
33au2f)ter. 


a  purple  silken  canopy,  surrounded  by  the  worthy 
Fathers,  and  bore  in  his  hands  the  sacred  emblem 
of  the  crucifixion  of  our  Savior.  We  brothers 
followed,  bearing  burning  candles  and  singing 
psalms.  Behind  us  came  a  great  crowd  of  people 
dressed  in  their  finest  attire. 

The  proudest  of  those  in  the  procession  were 
the  mountaineers  and  the  salt-miners,  the  Salt- 
master  at  their  head  on  a  beautiful  horse  adorned 
with  costly  trappings.  He  was  a  proud-looking 
man,  with  his  great  sword  at  his  side  and  a 
plumed  hat  upon  his  broad,  high  brow.  Behind 
him  rode  Eochus,  his  son.  AVhen  we  had  col- 
lected in  front  of  the  gate  to  form  a  line  I  took 
special  notice  of  that  young  man.  I  judge  him  to 
be  self-willed  and  bold.  He  wore  his  hat  on  the 
side  of  his  head  and  cast  flaming  glances  upon  the 
women  and  the  maidens.  lie  looked  contemptu- 
ously upon  us  monks.  I  fear  he  is  not  a  good 
Christian,  but  he  is  the  most  beautiful  youth  that 
I  have  ever  seen  :  tall  and  slender  like  a  young 
pine,  with  light  brown  eyes  and  golden  locks. 

The  Saltmaster  is  as  powerful  in  this  region  as 
our  Superior.  He  is  appointed  by  the  Duke  and 
has  judicial  powers  in  all  affairs.  He  has  even 
the  power  of  life  ajid  death  over  those  accused  of 


51 

murder  or  any  other  abominable  crime.  But  the 
Lord  has  fortunately  endowed  him  with  good 
judgment  and  wisdom. 

Through  the  village  the  procession  moved  out 
into  the  valley  and  down  to  the  entrances  of  the 
great  salt  mines.  In  front  of  the  principal  mine 
an  altar  was  erected,  and  there  our  Superior  read 
high  mass,  Avhile  all  the  people  knelt.  I  observed 
that  the  Saltmaster  and  his  son  knelt  and  bent 
their  heads  with  visible  reluctance,  and  this  made 
me  very  sad.  After  the  service  the  procession 
moved  toward  the  hill  called  "Mount  Calvary," 
which  is  still  higher  than  the  monastery,  and  from 
the  top  of  which  one  has  a  good  view  of  the  whole 
country  below.  There  the  reverend  Superior  dis- 
played the  crucifix  in  order  to  banish  the  evil 
powers  which  abound  in  these  terrible  mountains  ; 
and  he  also  said  prayers  and  pronounced  anathemas 
against  all  demons  infesting  the  valley  below.  The 
bells-  chimed  their  praises  to  the  Lord,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  divine  voices  were  ringing  through 
the  wilderness.  It  was  all,  indeed,  most  beautiful 
and  good. 

I  looked  about  me  to  see  if  the  child  of  the 
hangman  were  present,  but  I  could  not  see  her  any- 
where, and  knew  not  whether  to  rejoice  that  she 


anO  tfte 

JUanjjman's 

ISauflJter, 


Ctje  J«onfe  52 

atiD  tije 


JBauQi)ter. 


was  oiit  of  reach  of  the  insults  of  the  people  or  to 
mourn  because  deprived  of  the  spiritual  strength 
that  might  have  come  to  me  from  looking  upon 
her  heavenly  beauty. 

After  the  services  came  the  feast.  Upon  a 
meadow  sheltered  by  trees  tables  were  spread,  and 
the  clergy  and  the  people,  the  most  reverend  Supe- 
rior and  the  great  Saltmaster  partook  of  the  viands 
served  by  the  young  men.  It  was  interesting  to 
see  the  young  men  make  big  fires  of  pine  and 
maple,  put  great  pieces  of  beef  upon  wooden  spits, 
turn  them  over  the  coals  until  they  were  brown 
and  then  lay  them  before  the  Fathers  and  the 
mountaineers.  They  also  boiled  mountain  trout 
and  carp  in  large  kettles.  The  wheaten  bread 
was  brought  in  immense  baskets,  and  as  to  drink, 
there  was  assuredly  no  scarcity  of  that,  for  the 
Superior  and  the  Saltmaster  had  each  given  a 
mighty  cask  of  beer.  Both  of  these  monstrous 
barrels  lay  on  wooden  stands  under  an  ancient  oak. 
The  boys  and  the  Saltmaster's  men  drew  from  the 
cask  which  he  had  given^  while  that  of  the  Supe- 
rior Avas  served  by  the  brother  butler  and  a  number 
of  us  younger  monks.  In  honor  of  Saint  Fran- 
ciscus  I  must  say  that  the  clerical  barrel  was  of 
vastly  greater  size  than  that  of  the  Saltmaster. 


53  ^i^  ittonit 


Separate  tables  had  been  provided  for  the  Supe- 
rior and  the  Fathers,  and  for  the  Saltmaster  and 
the  best  of  his  people.  The  Saltmaster  and  Supe- 
rior sat  ujDon  chairs  which  stood  upon  a  beautiful 
carjoet,  and  their  seats  were  screened  from  the  sun 
by  a  linen  canopy.  At  the  tal)le,  surrounded  by 
their  beautiful  wives  and  daughters,  sat  many 
knights,  who  had  come  from  their  distant  castles 
to  sliare  in  the  great  festival.  I  helped  at  table. 
I  handed  the  dishes  and  filled  the  goblets  and  was 
able  to  see  how  good  an  appetite  the  company  had, 
and  how  they  loved  that  brown  and  bitter  drink. 
I  could  see  also  how  amorously  the  Saltmaster's  son 
looked  at  the  ladies,  which  provoked  me  very  much, 
as  he  could  not  marry  them  all,  especially  those 
already  married. 

We  had  music,  too.  Some  boys  from  the  village, 
who  practice  on  various  instruments  in  their  spare 
moments,  were  tlie  performers.  Ah,  how  they 
yelled,  those  flutes  and  pipes,  and  how  the  fiddle 
bows  danced  and  chirped  !  I  do  not  doubt  the 
music  was  very  good,  but  Heaven  has  not  seen  fit 
to  give  me  the  right  kind  of  ears. 

I  am  sure  our  blessed  Saint  must  have  derived 
great  satisfaction  from  the  sight  of  so  many  people 
eating  and  drinking  their  bellies  full.     Heavens  ! 


^ansman's 
3Bauiit)ter. 


anil  tje 


J^anjjman's 
©auQljtrc. 


how  they  did  eat  —  what  unearthly  quantities  they 
did  away  with  !  But  that  was  nothing  to  their 
drinking.  I  firmly  believe  that  if  every  mountain- 
eer had  brought  along  a  barrel  of  his  own  he  would 
have  emptied  it,  all  by  himself.  But  the  women 
seemed  to  dislike  the  beer,  especially  the  young 
girls.  Usually  before  drinking  a  young  man 
would  hand  his  cup  to  one  of  the  maids,  who 
barely  touched  it  with  her  lips,  and,  making  a 
grimace,  turned  away  her  face.  I  am  not  suffi- 
ciently acquainted  with  the  ways  of  woman  to  say 
with  certainty  if  this  jiroved  that  at  other  times 
they  were  so  abstemious. 

After  eating,  the  young  men  played  at  various 
games  which  exhibited  their  agility  and  strength. 
Holy  Franciscus  !  what  legs  they  have,  what  arms 
and  necks  !  They  leapt,  they  wrestled  with  one 
another  ;  it  was  like  the  fighting  of  bears.  The 
mere  sight  of  it  caused  me  to  feel  great  fear.  It 
seemed  as  if  they  would  crush  one  another.  But 
the  maidens  looked  on,  feeling  neither  fear  nor 
anxiety ;  they  giggled  and  appeared  well  pleased. 
It  was  wonderful,  too,  to  hear  the  voices  of  these 
young  mountaineers  ;  they  threw  back  their  heads 
and  shouted  till  the  echoes  rang  from  the  mountain- 


5&  me  i«onfe 

aim  t|)c 


sides  and  roared  in  the  gorges^  as  if  from  the 
throats  of  a  legion  of  demons. 

Foremost  among  all  was  the  Saltmaster's  son. 
He  sjjrang  like  a  deer,  fought  like  a  fiend,  and 
bellowed  like  a  wild  bull.  Among  these  mount- 
aineers he  was  a  king.  I  observed  that  many  were 
jealous  of  his  strength  and  beauty,  and  secretly 
hated  him ;  yet  all  obeyed.  It  was  beautiful  to 
see  how  this  young  man  bent  his  slender  body 
while  leaping  and  playing  in  the  games  —  how  he 
threw  up  his  head  like  a  stag  at  gaze,  shook  his 
golden  locks  and  stood  in  the  midst  of  his  fellows 
witli  flaming  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes.  IIow  sad 
to  think  that  pride  and  passion  should  make  their 
home  in  so  lovely  a  body,  which  seems  created  for 
the  habitation  of  a  soul  that  would  glorify  its 
Maker ! 

It  was  near  dusk  when  the  Superior,  the  Salt- 
master,  the  Fathers  and  all  the  distinguished 
guests  parted  and  retired  to  their  homes,  leaving 
the  others  at  drink  and  dance.  My  duties  compelled 
me  to  remain  with  the  brother  butler  to  serve  the 
debauching  youths  witli  beer  from  the  great  cask. 
Young  Rochus  remained  too.  I  do  not  know  how 
it  occurred,  but  suddenly  he  stood  before  me.  His 
looks  were  dark  and  his  manner  proud. 


HBauafttcr. 


Etc  i^onlt  56 

anu  tjje 


?^ansman's 
30austtct. 


"Are  yon,"  he  said,  "the  mouk  who  gave  offense 
to  the  people  the  other  day  ?  " 

I  asked  humbly  —  though  beneath  my  monk's 
robe  I  felt  a  sinful  anger  :  "  What  are  you  sj^eak- 
ing  of  ?" 

"  As  if  you  did  not  know  ! "  he  said,  haughtily. 
"  Now  bear  in  mind  what  I  tell  you  :  if  you  ever 
show  any  friendship  toward  that  girl  I  shall  teach 
you  a  lesson  which  you  v/ill  not  soon  forget.  You 
monks  are  likely  to  call  your  impertinence  by  the 
name  of  some  virtue  ;  but  I  know  the  trick,  and 
will  have  none  of  it.  Make  a  note  of  that,  you 
young  cowl-wearer,  for  your  handsome  face  and 
big  eyes  will  not  save  you." 

With  that  he  turned  his  back  upon  me  and  went 
away,  but  I  heard  his  strong  voice  ringing  out 
upon  the  night  as  he  sang  and  shouted  with  the 
others.  I  was  greatly  alarmed  to  learn  that  this 
bold  boy  had  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  hangman's 
lovely  daughter.  His  feeling  for  her  was  surely 
not  honorable,  or,  instead  of  hating  me  for  being 
kind  to  her,  he  would  have  been  grateful  and 
would  have  thanked  me.  I  feared  for  the  child, 
and  again  and  again  did  I  promise  my  blessed 
Saint  that  I  would  watch  over  and  protect  her,  in 
obedience  to  the  miracle  which  he  has  wrought  in 


57  8:|)e  ittonfe 

my  breast  regarding  her.  With  that  wondrous 
feeling  to  urge  me  on,  I  cannot  be  slack  in  my 
duty,  and,  Benedicta,  thou  shalt  be  saved  —  thy 
body  and  thy  soul ! 


XII. 


ET  mo  continue  my  report. 

The  boys  threw  dry  brush- 
wood into  the  fire  so  that 
the  flames  illuminated  the 
whole  meadow  and  shone 
red  upon  the  trees.  Then 
they  laid  hands  upon  tlie 
village  maidens  and  began  to  turn  and  swing  them 
round  and  round.  Holy  saints  !  how  they  stamped 
and  turned  and  threw  their  hats  in  the  air,  kicked 
up  their  heels,  and  lifted  the  girls  from  the  ground, 
as  if  the  sturdy  Avenches  were  nothing  but  feather 
balls  !  They  shouted  and  yelled  as  if  all  the  evil 
spirits  had  them  in  possession,  so  that  I  wished  a 
herd  of  swine  might  come,  that  the  devils  might 
leave  these  human  brutes  and  go  into  the  four- 
legged  ones.  The  boys  were  quite  full  of  the 
brown  beer,  which  for  its  bitterness  and  strength 
is  a  beastly  drink. 

Before  long  the  madness  of  intoxication  broke 
out ;    they  attacked   each    other  with    fists   and 

59 


anu  tjie 


l^angman's 
SBauQtitec. 


knives,  and  it  looked  as  if  they  would  do  murder. 
Suddenly  the  Saltmaster's  son,  who  had  stood 
looking  on,  leaped  among  them,  caught  two  of  the 
combatants  by  the  hair  and  knocked  their  heads 
together  with  such  force  that  the  blood  started 
from  their  noses,  and  I  thought  surely  their  skulls 
had  been  crushed  like  egg-shells ;  but  they  must 
have  been  very  hard-headed,  for  on  being  released 
they  seemed  little  the  worse  for  their  punishment. 
After  much  shouting  and  screaming,  Ilochus  suc- 
ceeded in  making  peace,  which  seemed  to  me,  poor 
worm,  quite  heroic.  The  music  set  in  again  :  the 
fiddles  scraped  and  the  pipes  shrieked,  while  the 
boys,  with  torn  clothes  and  scratched  and  bleeding 
faces,  renewed  the  dance  as  if  nothing  had  oc- 
curred. Truly  this  is  a  people  that  would  gladden 
the  heart  of  a  Bramarbas  or  a  Holofernes  ! 

I  had  scarcely  recovered  from  the  fright  which 
Rochus  had  given  me,  when  I  was  made  to  feel  a 
far  greater  one.  Eochus  was  dancing  with  a  tall 
and  beautiful  girl,  who  looked  the  very  queen  of 
this  young  king.  They  made  such  mighty  leaps 
and  dizzy  turns,  but  at  the  same  time  so  graceful, 
that  all  looked  on  with  astonishment  and  pleasure. 
The  girl  had  a  sensuous  smile  on  her  lijDS  and  a 
bold  look  in  her  brown  face,  which  seemed  to  say  : 


,  .^^^^■'t'^ 


> 


i 


^ 


i 


Her  Hack  eyes  harninii  like  flumes  of  hell. 


61  C|)e  IWonlfc 

anU  t|)c 


"  See  !  I  am  the  mistress  of  his  heart ! "  But  siid- 
deuly  he  pushed  her  from  him  as  in  disgust,  broke 
from  the  circle  of  dancers,  and  cried  to  his  friends  : 
"  I  am  going  to  bring  my  own  partner.  Who  will 
go  with  me  ?  "  * 

The  tall  girl,  maddened  by  the  insult,  stood 
looking  at  him  with  the  face  of  a  demon,  her 
black  eyes  burning  like  flames  of  hell !  But  her 
discomfiture  amused  the  drunken  youths,  and  they 
laughed  aloud. 

Snatching  a  fire-brand  and  swinging  it  about 
his  head  till  the  sparks  flew  in  showers,  Rochus 
cried  again  :  "  Who  goes  with  me  ?  "  and  walked 
rapidly  away  into  the  forest.  The  others,  seizing 
fire-brands  also,  ran  after  him,  and  soon  their 
voices  could  be  Beard  far  away,  ringing  out  upon 
the  night,  themselves  no  longer  seen.  I  was  still 
looking  in  the  direction  which  they  had  taken, 
when  the  tall  girl  whom  Rochus  had  insulted 
stepped  to  my  side  and  hissed  something  into 
my  ear.     I  felt  her  hot  breath  on  my  cheek. 

"  If  you  care  for  the  hangman's  daughter,  then 
hasten  and  save  her  from  that  drunken  wretch. 
No  woman  resists  him  !  " 

God  !  how  the  wild  words  of  that  woman  horri- 
fied me  !     I  did  not  doubt  the  girl's  words,  but  in 


Jj^anaman's 
^auQl)ter. 


2rt)e  iJ^onft  62 

anlr  tl)e 


J^angman's 
3iaufl|)ter, 


my  anxiety  for  the  poor  child  I  asked  :  "  How  can 
I  save  her  ?  " 

"Run  and  warn  her,  monk/'  the  wench  replied  : 
"she  will  listen  to  you." 

"But  they  will  find  her  sooner  than  I." 

"  They  are  drunk  and  will  not  go  fast.  Besides, 
I  know  a  path  leading  to  the  hangman's  hut  by  a 
shorter  route." 

"  Then  show  me  and  be  quick  ! "  I  cried. 

She  glided  away,  motioning  me  to  follow.  We 
were  soon  in  the  woods,  where  it  was  so  dark  I 
could  hardly  see  the  woman's  figure ;  but  she 
moved  as  fast  and  her  step  was  as  sure  as  in  the 
light  of  day.  Above  us  we  could  see  the  torches 
of  the  boys,  which  showed  that  they  had  taken  the 
longer  path  along  the  mountain-side.  I  heard 
tlieir  wild  shouts,  and  trembled  for  the  child.  We 
had  walked  for  some  time  in  silence,  having  loft 
the  youths  far  behind,  when  the  young  woman 
began  speaking  to  herself.  At  first  I  did  not 
understand,  but  soon  my  ears  caught  every  passion- 
ate word  : 

"  He  shall  not  have  her  !  To  the  devil  with  the 
hangman's  whelp  !  Every  one  despises  her  and 
spits  at  the  sight  of  her.  It  is  just  like  him  —  he 
does   not   care  for   what    peoj^le    think   or    say. 


63  CEijc  IHonft 

anO  ti)e 
Because  they  hate  he  loves.     Besides,  she  has  a  agjingmjux's 
pretty  face.     I'll  make  it  pretty    for  her  !     I'll    jgauafttec. 
mark    it    with    blood  !      But    if    she    were    the 
daughter  of  the  devil  himself  he  would  not  rest 
until  he  had  her.     He  shall  not  I" 

She  lifted  her  arms  and  laughed  wildly  —  I 
shuddered  to  hear  her  !  I  thought  of  the  dark 
powers  that  live  in  the  human  breast,  though  I 
know  as  little  of  them,  thank  God,  as  a  child. 

At  length  we  reached  the  Galgenberg,  where 
stands  the  hangman's  hut,  and  a  few  moments' 
climb  brought  us  near  the  door. 

"There  she  lives,"  said  the  girl,  pointing  to  the 
hut,  through  the  windows  of  which  shone  the  yel- 
low light  of  a  tallow  candle  ;  "  go  warn  her.  The 
hangman  is  ill  and  unable  to  protect  his  daughter, 
even  if  he  dared.  You'd  better  take  her  away  — 
take  her  to  the  Alpfeld  on  the  Goll,  where  my 
father  has  a  house.  They  will  not  look  for  her  up 
there." 

With  that  she  left  me  and  vanished  in  the 
darkness. 


Therf,  in   the  m'ujat  <//'  an  illaininaUd   siiare,   irere  liurltas  a)id   lienedicta. 


XIII. 


OOKINGr  in  at  the  window 
of  the  hut,  I  saw  the  liang- 
mau  sitting  in  a  chair,  with 
his  daughter  beside  him, 
her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 
I  could  hear  him  cough  and 
groan,  and  knew  that  she 
was  trying  to  soothe  him  in  his  jiain.  A  world  of 
love  and  sorrow  was  in  her  face,  which  was  more 
beautiful  than  ever. 

Nor  did  I  fail  to  observe  how  clean  and  tidy 
were  the  room  and  all  in  it.  The  humble  dwell- 
ing looked,  indeed,  like  a  place  blessed  by  the 
peace  of  God.  Yet  these  blameless  persons  are 
treated  as  accurst  and  hated  like  mortal  sin  ! 
What  greatly  pleased  me  was  an  image  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  on  the  wall  opposite  the  window 
at  which  I  stood.  The  frame  was  decorated  with 
flowers  of  the  field,  and  the  mantle  of  the  Holy 
Mother  festopned  with  edelweiss. 

I  knocked  at  the  door,  calling  out  at  j;he  samp 
5  G5 


C!)c  i«on&  66 

anU  t\te 


time:  "Do  not  fear;  it  is  I  —  Brother  Ambro- 
sius." 

It  seemed  to  me  that,  on  hearing  my  voice  and 
name,  Benedicta  showed  a  sudden  joy  in  her  face, 
but  perhaps  it  was  only  surprise  —  may  the  saints 
jorcserve  me  from  the  sin  of  pride.  She  came  to 
the  window  and  opened  it. 

"Benedicta,"  said  I,  hastily,  after  returning  her 
greeting,  "wild  and  drunken  boys  are  on  their 
way  hither  to  take  you  to  the  dance.  Rochus  is 
with  them,  and  says  that  he  will  fetch  you  to 
dance  with  him.  I  have  come  before  tliem  to 
assist  you  to  escape. " 

At  the  name  of  Rochus  I  saw  the  blood  rise  into 
her  cheeks  and  suffuse  her  whole  face  with  crim- 
son. Alas,  I  perceived  that  my  jealous  guide  was 
right :  no  woman  could  resist  that  beautiful  boy, 
not  even  this  pious  and  virtuous  child.  When  her 
father  comprehended  what  I  said  he  rose  to  his  feet 
and  stretched  out  his  feeble  arms  as  if  to  shield  her 
from  harm,  but,  although  his  soul  was  strong,  his 
body,  I  knew,  was  powerless.  I  said  to  him : 
"  Let  me  take  her  away ;  the  boys  are  drunk  and 
know  not  what  they  do.  Your  resistance  would 
only  make  them  angry,  and  they  might  harm  you 
both.     Ah,  look  !     See  their  torches ;   hear  th^ir 


67  fffic  IWonfe 

.  ,  .  ,        anO  ttje 

boisterous  voices  !     Hasten,  Benedicta — be  quick, 

be  quick  ! " 

JBauflijtct. 
Benedicta  sprang  to  the  side  of  the  now  sobbmg 

old  man  and  tenderly  embraced  him.  Then  she 
hurried  from  the  room,  and  after  covering  my 
hands  with  kisses  ran  away  into  the  woods,  dis- 
appearing in  the  night,  at  M'hich  I  was  greatly  sur- 
prised. I  waited  for  her  to  return,  for  a  few 
minutes,  then  entered  the  cabin  to  protect  her 
father  from  the  wild  youths  who,  I  thought,  would 
visit  their  disappointment  upon  him. 

But  they  did  not  come.  I  waited  and  listened 
in  vain.  All  at  once  I  heard  shouts  of  joy  and 
screams  that  made  me  tremble  and  pray  to  the 
blessed  Saint.  But  the  sounds  died  away  in  the 
distance,  and  I  knew  that  the  boys  had  retraced 
their  steps  down  the  Galgenberg  to  the  meadow 
of  the  fires.  The  sick  man  and  I  spoke  of  the 
miracle  which  had  changed  their  hearts,  and  we 
were  filled  with  gratitude  and  joy.  Then  I  re- 
turned along  the  path  by  which  I  had  come. 
As  I  arrived  near  the  meadow,  I  could  hear  a 
wilder  and  madder  uproar  tlian  ever,  and  could 
see  through  the  trees  the  glare  of  greater  fires, 
with  the  figures  of  the  youths  and  a  few  maids 
(lancing  in  the  open,  their  heads  uncovered,  their 


ano  tpe  Yinir  streaming  over  their  shoulders,  their  gar- 
Jganjjman's  jj^gnts  disordered  by  the  fury  of  their  movements. 
iPauflStcv.  r^i^Qj  circled  about  the  fires,  wound  in  and  out 
among  them,  showing  black  or  red  according  to 
how  the  light  struck  them,  and  looking  alto- 
gether like  Demons  of  the  Pit  commemorating 
some  infernal  anniversary  or  some  new  torment 
for  the  damned.  And,  Holy  Savior  !  there,  in 
the  midst  of  an  illuminated  space,  upon  which 
the  others  did  not  trespass,  dancing  by  them- 
selves and  apparently  forgetful  of  all  else,  were 
Piochus  and  Benedicta ! 


XIV. 


""iRff^i'iliJEay  :Tf.mup 


OLY  Mother  of  God!  what 
can  be  worse  than  the  fall  of 
an  angel  ?  I  saw  —  I  under- 
stood, then,  that  in  leaving 
me  and  her  father  Benedicta 
had  gone  willingly  to  meet 
the  very  fate  from  which  I 
had  striven   to  save  her  I 

"The  accurst  Avench  has  run  into  Eochus' 
arms,"  hissed  some  one  at  my  side,  and,  turning,  I 
saw  the  tall  brown  girl  who  had  been  my  guide, 
her  face  distorted  with  hate.  "  I  wish  that  I  had 
killed  her.  Why  did  you  suffer  her  to  play  us  this 
trick,  you  fool  of  a  monk  ?  " 

I  pushed  her  aside  and  ran  toward  the  couj^le 
without  thinking  what  I  did.  But  what  could  I 
do  ?  Even  at  that  instant,  as  though  to  jirevent 
my  interference,  though  really  unconscious  of  my 
presence,  the  drunken  youths  formed  a  circle 
about  them,  bawling  tlieir  admiration  and  clapping 

their  hands  to  mark  the  time. 
69 


ana  tt)c 

J^aitfiman'a 

3i3aujii)ter» 


70 

As  these  two  beautiful  figures  danced  they  were 
a  lovely  picture.  He,  tall,  slender  and  lithe,  was 
like  a  god  of  the  heathen  Greeks  ;  while  Benedicta 
looked  like  a  fairy.  Seen  through  the  slight  mist 
upon  the  meadows,  her  delicate  figure,  moving 
swiftly  and  swaying  from  side  to  side,  seemed 
veiled  with  a  web  of  purple  and  gold.  Her  eyes 
were  cast  modestly  upon  the  ground  ;  her  motions, 
though  agile,  were  easy  and  graceful ;  her  face 
glowed  with  excitement,  and  it  seemed  as  if  lier 
whole  soul  were  absorbed  in  the  dance.  Poor, 
sweet  child !  her  error  made  me  weep,  but  I  for- 
gave her.  Her  life  was  so  barren  and  joyless  ; 
why  should  she  not  love  to  dance  ?  Heaven  bless 
her  !     But  Rochus  —  ah,  God  forgive  him  ! 

While  I  was  looking  on  at  all  this,  and  thinking 
what  it  was  my  duty  to  do,  the  jealous  girl  —  she 
is  called  Amnla  —  had  stood  near  me,  cursing  and 
blaspheming.  When  the  boys  aj)plauded  Bene- 
dicta's  dancing,  Amula  made  as  if  she  would 
spring  forward  and  strangle  her.  But  I  held  the 
furious  creature  back,  and,  stepping  forward, 
called  out :  "  Benedicta  ! " 

She  started  at  the  sound  of  my  voice,  but, 
though  she  hung  her  head  a  little  lower,  she  con- 
tinued dancing.     Amula  could  control  her  rage 


©aufltter. 


71  ®:t)c  iilonft 

no  longer,  and  rnslied  forward  with  a  savage  cr}^ 
trying  to  break  into  the  circle.  But  the  drunken  _ 
boys  prevented.  They  jeered  at  her,  which  mad- 
dened her  the  more,  and  she  made  effort  after 
effort  to  reach  her  victim.  The  boys  drove  her 
awa}^  with  shouts,  curses  and  laughter.  Holy 
Franciscus,  pray  for  us  !  —  when  I  saw  the  hatred 
in  Amula's  eyes  a  cold  sliudder  ran  tln'ough  my 
body.  God  be  with  us  !  I  believe  the  creature 
capable  of  killing  the  ])Oor  child  witli  her  owii 
hands,  and  glorying  in  the  deed  ! 

I  ought  now  to  have  gone  home,  but  I  remained. 
I  thought  of  what  might  occur  when  the  dance 
was  over,  for  I  had  been  told  that  the  youths  com- 
monly accomj^anied  their  partners  home,  and  I 
was  horrified  to  think  of  Kochus  and  Benedicta 
alone  together  in  the  forest  and  the  night. 

Imagine  my  surin'ise  when  all  at  once  Benedicta 
lifted  her  head,  stopj^ed  dancing,  and,  looking 
kindly  at  Roclius,  said  in  her  sweet  voice,  so  like 
the  sound  of  silver  bells  : 

"I  thank  you,  sir,  for  having  chosen  me  for 
5^our  partner  in  the  dance  in  such  a  knightly 
way." 

Then,  bowing  to  the  Saltmaster's  son,  she 
slipped  quickly  through  the  circle,  and,  before  any 


anU  tfie 
3iaufli)tei-. 


72 

one  could  know  what  was  occurring  disappeared 
in  the  bhick  spaces  of  the  forest.  Eochus  at  first 
seemed  stupefied  with  amazement,  but  when  he 
realized  that  Benedicta  was  indeed  gone  he  raved 
like  a  madman.  He  shouted  :  "  Benedicta  !  " 
He  called  her  endearing  names;  but  all  to  no  pur- 
pose—  she  had  vanished.  Then  he  hurried  after 
her  and  wanted  to  search  the  forest  with  torches, 
but  the  other  youths  dissuaded  him.  Observing 
my  presence,  he  turned  his  wrath  upon  me  ;  I 
think  if  he  had  dared  he  would  have  struck  me. 
He  cried  :  "  I'll  make  you  smart  for  this,  you 
miserable  cowl-wearer  ! " 

But  I  do  not  fear  him.  Praise  be  to  God  ! 
Benedicta  is  not  guilty,  and  I  can  respect  her  as 
before.  Yet  I  tremble  to  think  of  the  many  perils 
which  beset  her.  She  is  defenseless  against  the 
hate  of  Amula  as  well  as  against  the  lust 
of  Rochus.  Ah,  if  I  could  be  ever  at  her  side 
to  watch  over  and  protect  her  !  But  I  commend 
her  to  Thee,  0  Lord  :  the  poor  motherless  child 
shall  surely  not  trust  to  Thee  in  vain. 


XV. 


LAS  !  my  unhappy  fate  !  — 
again  jiimished  and  again 
unable  to  find  myself  guilty. 
It  seems  that  Amula  has 
talked  about  Benedicta  and 
Rochus.  The  brown  wench 
strolled  from  house  to  house 
telling  how  Rochus  went  to  the  gallows  for  his 
partner  in  the  dance.  And  she  added  that  Bene- 
dicta had  acted  in  the  most  shameless  manner  with 
the  drunken  boys.  When  the  people  spoke  to  me 
of  this  I  enlightened  them  regarding  the  facts,  as 
it  seemed  to  me  my  duty  to  do,  and  told  all  as  it 
had  occurred. 

By  this  testimony  in  contradiction  of  one  who 
broke  the  Decalogue  by  bearing  false  witness 
against  her  neighbor  I  have,  it  seems,  offended  the 
Superior.  I  was  summoned  before  him  and  ac- 
cused of  defending  the  hangman's  daughter  against 
the  statements  of  an   honest   Christian   girl.     I 

asked,  meekly,  what  I  should  have  done — whether 
73 


I  should  have  permitted  the  innocent  and  defense- 
less  to  be  calumniated. 
BausDter.  „  q^  ^^j^^^  interest,"  I  was  asked,  «  can  the  hang- 
man's daughter  be  to  you  ?  Moreover,  it  is  a  fact 
that  she  went  of  her  own  will  to  associate  with  the 
drunken  boys." 

To  this  I  replied  :  "  She  went  out  of  love  to  her 
father,  for  if  the  intoxicated  youths  had  not  found 
her  they  would  have  maltreated  him  —  and  she 
loves  the  old  man,  who  is  ill  and  helpless.  Thus 
it  happened,  and  thus  I  have  testified." 

But  His  Eeverence  insisted  that  I  was  wrong, 
and  put  me  under  severe  penance.  I  willingly 
undergo  it :  I  am  glad  to  suffer  for  the  sweet 
child.  Nor  will  I  murmur  against  the  revered 
Superior,  for  he  is  my  master,  against  whom  to 
rebel,  even  in  thought,  is  sin.  Is  not  obedience 
the  foremost  commandment  of  our  great  Saint  for 
all  his  disciiDles  ?  Ah,  how  I  long  for  the  priestly 
ordination  and  the  holy  oil !  Then  I  shall  have 
peace  and  will  be  able  to  serve  Heaven  better  and 
with  greater  acceptance. 

I  am  troubled  about  Benedicta.  If  not  confined 
to  my  cell  I  should  go  toward  the  Galgenberg  : 
perhaps  I  should  meet  her.  I  grieve  for  her  as  if 
she  were  my  sister. 


75  ^e  l^onlt 

anO  tje 
Belonsrina:  to  the  Lord,  I  have  no  rifflit  to  love  ^ 

anything  but  Him  who  died  upon  the  cross  for  our 

sins  —  all  other  love  is  evil.     0  blessed  Saints  in 

Heaven  !  what  if  it  bo  that  this  feeling  which  I 

have  accepted  as  a  sign  and  token   that   I  am 

charged  with  the  salvation  of  Benedicta's  soul  is 

but  an  earthly  love  !     Pray  for  me,  0  dear  Fran- 

ciscus,  that   I   may  have   the  light,  lest  I   stray 

into  that  road  which  leads  down  to  Hell.     Light 

and  strength,  beloved  Saint,  that  I  may  know  the 

right  path,  and  walk  therein  forever  I 


XVI. 


STAND  at  the  window  of 
my  cell.  The  snn  sinks  and 
the  shadows  creep  higher 
on  the  sides  of  the  mount- 
ains  beyond  the  abyss. 
The  abyss  itself  is  filled 
with  a  mist  whose  billowy 
surface  looks  like  a  great  lake.  I  think  how 
Benedicta  climbed  out  of  these  awful  depths  to 
fling  me  the  edelweiss;  I  listen  for  the  sound  of 
the  stones  displaced  by  her  daring  little  feet  and 
plunging  into  the  chasm  below.  But  night  after 
night  has  passed.  I  hear  the  wind  among  the 
pines  ;  I  hear  the  water  roaring  in  the  deeps  ;  I 
hear  the  distant  song  of  the  nightingale  ;  but  her 
voice  I  do  not  hear. 

Every  evening  the  mist  rises  from  the  abyss.  It 
forms  billows  ;  then  rings  ;  then  flakes,  and  these 
rise  and  grow  and  darken  until  they  are  great 
clouds.  They  cover  the  hill  and  the  valley,  the 
tall  pines  and  the  snow-pointed  mountains.     They 

77 


antt  tl)e 


39au2f)tPi^' 


extinguish  the  last  remaining  touches  of  sunlight 
on  the  higher  peaks,  and  it  is  night.  Alas,  in  my 
soul  also  there  is  night  - —  dark,  starless,  and  with- 
out hope  of  dawn ! 

To-day  is  Sunday.  Benedicta  was  not  in  church 
—  "the  dark  corner"  remained  vacant.  I  was 
unable  to  keep  my  mind  upon  the  service,  a  sin 
for  which  I  shall  do  voluntary  penance. 

Amula  was  among  the  other  maidens,  but  I  saw 
nothing  of  Rochus.  It  seemed  to  me  that  her 
watchful  black  eyes  were  a  sufficient  guard  against 
any  rival,  and  that  in  her  jealousy  Benedicta 
would  find  protection.  God  can  make  the  basest 
passions  serve  the  most  worthy  ends, .  and  the 
reflection  gave  me  pleasure,  which,  alas,  was  of 
short  life. 

The  services  being  at  an  end,  the  Fathers  and 
friars  left  the  church  slowly  in  procession,  moving 
through  the  vestry,  while  the  people  went  out  at 
the  main  entrance.  From  the  long  covered  gallery 
leading  out  of  the  vestry  one  has  a  full  view  of  the 
public  square  of  the  village.  As  we  friars,  v/ho 
were  behind  the  Fathers,  were  in  the  gallery,  some- 
thing occurred  which  I  shall  remember  even  to 
the  day  of  my  death  as  an  unjust  deed  which 
Heaven  permitted  for  I  know  not  what  purpose. 


79  ?rte  ifWonft 

anlr  ti)C 


It  seems  that  the  Fathers  must  have  known  what 
was  coming,  for  they  halted  in  the  gallery,  giving 
us  all  an  opportunity  to  look  out  upon  the  square. 

I  heard  a  confused  noise  of  voices.  It  came 
nearer,  and  the  shouting  and  yelling  sounded  like 
the  approach  of  all  the  fiends  of  Hell.  Being  at 
the  farther  end  of  the  gallery,  I  was  unable  to  see 
what  was  going  on  in  the  square,  so  I  asked  a 
brother  at  a  window  near  by  what  it  was  all  about. 

"They  are  taking  a  woman  to  the  pillory,"  he 
answered. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  " 

«  A  girl." 

"  What  has  she  done  ?  " 

"You  ask  a  foolish  question.  Whom  are  pil- 
lories and  whipping-posts  for  but  fallen  women  ?  " 

The  howling  mob  passed  farther  into  the  square, 
so  that  I  had  a  full  view.  In  the  front  were  boys, 
leaj)ing,  gesticulating  and  singing  vile  songs. 
They  seemed  mad  with  joy  and  made  savage  by 
the  shame  and  i:)ain  of  their  fellow-creature.  Nor 
did  tlie  maids  behave  much  better.  "Fie  ujDon 
the  outcast  ! "  they  cried.  "  See  what  it  is  to  be  a 
sinner  !     Thank  Heaven,  we  are  virtuous." 

In  the  rear  of  these  yelling  boys,  surrounded  by 
this  mob  of  screaming  women  and  girls  —  0,  God  1 


Ji^anQman's 
119aufll)tct. 


S:t)e  m-onk  80 


Jj^anoTnan's 
30au2t)tec. 


how  can  I  write  it  ?  How  can  I  exj)ress  the  horror 
of  it  ?  In  the  midst  of  it  all  —  she^  the  lovely^  the 
sweet,  the  immaculate  Benedicta  ! 

0  my  Savior  !  how  did  I  see  all  this,  yet  am 
still  living  to  relate  it  ?  I  must  have  come  near  to 
death.  The  gallery,  the  square,  the  people 
seemed  whirling  round  and  round  ;  the  earth  sank 
beneath  my  feet,  and,  although  I  strained  my  eyes 
open  to  see,  yet  all  was  dark.  But  it  must  have 
been  for  but  a  short  time  ;  I  recovered,  and,  look- 
ing down  into  the  square,  saw  her  again. 

They  had  clothed  her  in  a  long  gray  cloak,  fast- 
ened at  the  waist  with  a  rope.  Her  head  bore  a 
wreath  of  straw,  and  on  her  breast,  suspended  by 
a  string  about  the  neck,  was  a  black  tablet  bearing 
in  chalk  the  word  "  Buhle"  —  harlot. 

By  the  end  of  the  rope  about  her  waist  a  man  led 
her.  I  looked  at  him  closely,  and  —  0  most  holy 
Son  of  God,  what  brutes  and  beasts  Thou  didst 
come  to  save  !  —  it  was  Benedicta's  father  !  They 
had  compelled  the  poor  old  man  to  perform  one  of 
the  duties  of  his  office  by  leading  his  own  child  to 
the  pillory  !  I  learned  later  that  he  had  implored 
the  Superior  on  his  knees  not  to  lay  this  dreadful 
command  upon  him,  but  all  in  vain. 

The  memory  of  this  scene  can  never  leave  me. 


liiiiiilicid  strfti/i,(/  mil  1,1  r  ttrm    in   xiipji/ini/iiin. 


81  E\)e  i«onft 

anO  tje 
The  hanffman  did  not  remove  his  eyes  from  his 

Jl^ansman's 
daughter's  face,  and  she  frequently  nodded  at  him 

^  1  J  ©aufltter. 

and  smiled.     By   the   grace  of  God,  the  maiden 

smiled  ! 

The  mob  insulted  her,  called  her  vile  names  and 
spat  uj^on  the  ground  in  front  of  her  feet.  Nor 
was  this  all.  Observing  that  she  took  no  notice  of 
them,  they  pelted  her  with  dust  and  grass.  This 
was  more  than  the  poor  father  could  endure,  and, 
with  a  faint,  inarticulate  moan,  he  fell  to  the 
ground  in  a  swoon. 

Oh,  the  pitiless  wretches  I  —  they  wanted  to  lift 
him  up  and  make  him  finish  his  task,  but  Bene- 
dicta  stretched  out  her  arm  in  supplication,  and 
with  an  expression  of  so  ineffable  tenderness  upon 
her  beautiful  face  that  even  the  brutal  mob  felt 
her  gentle  power  and  recoiled  from  before  her, 
leaving  the  unconscious  man  upon  the  ground. 
She  knelt  and  took  her  father's  head  in  her  lap. 
She  whispered  in  his  ear  words  of  love  and  com- 
fort. She  stroked  his  gray  hair  and  kissed  his  pale 
lips  until  she  had  coaxed  him  into  consciousness 
and  he  had  opened  his  eyes.  Benedicta,  thrice 
blessed  Benedicta,  thou  surely  art  born  to  be  a 
saint,  for  thou  didst  show  a  divine  patience  like 


Eie  S^otOt  82 

atiO  tje  .  . 

__  that  with  which   our  Savior  bore  His  cross  and 

with  it  all  the  sins  of  the  world  ! 

She  helped  her  father  to  rise^  and  smiled  brightly 
in  his  face  when  he  made  out  to  stand.  She  shook 
the  dust  from  his  clothing,  and  tben^  still  smiling 
and  murmuring  words  of  encouragement,  handed 
him  the  rope.  The  boys  yelled  and  sang,  the 
women  screamed,  and  the  wretched  old  man  led  his 
innocent  child  to  the  place  of  shame. 


XVII. 


'HEN  I  was  back  again  in  my 
cell  I  threw  m3-self  upon  the 
stones  and  cried  aloud  to 
God  against  the  injustice 
and  misery  that  I  had  wit- 
nessed, and  against  the  still 
greater  misery  of  which  I 
had  been  spared  the  siglit.  I  saw  in  my  mind  the 
father  binding  his  child  to  the  j)ost.  I  saw  the 
brutal  populace  dance  about  her  with  savage 
delight.  I  saw  the  vicious  Amula  spit  in  the  pure 
one's  face.  I  prayed  long  and  earnestly  that  the 
poor  child  might  be  made  strong  to  endure  her 
great  affliction. 

Then  I  sat  and  waited.  I  waited  for  the  setting 
of  the  sun,  for  at  that  time  the  sufferer  is  com- 
monly released  from  the  whipping-post.  The 
minutes  seemed  hours,  the  hours  eternities.  The 
sun  did  not  move  ;  the  day  of  shame  was  denied  a 
night. 

It  was  in  vain  that  I  tried  to  understand  it  all ; 

83 


Ci)c  iaonfe  84 

I  was  stnnned  and  dazed.  Why  did  Eochus  per- 
mit  Benedicta  to  be  so  disgraced  ?  Does  he  think 
the  deeper  her  shame  the  more  easily  he  can  win 
her  ?  I  know  not,  nor  do  I  greatly  care  to  search 
out  his  motive.  But,  God  help  me  !  I  myself  feel 
her  disgrace  most  keenly. 

And,  Lord,  Lord,  what  a  light  has  come  into  the 
understanding  of  Thy  servant  !  It  has  come  to 
me  like  a  revelation  out  of  Heaven  that  my  feeling 
for  Benedicta  is  more  and  less  than  what  I  thought 
it.  It  is  an  earthly  love  —  the  love  of  a  man  for  a 
woman.  As  first  this  knowledge  broke  into  my 
consciousness  my  breath  came  short,  my  heart  beat 
quick  and  hard ;  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  should 
suffocate.  Yet  such  was  the  hardness  of  my  heart 
from  witnessing  so  terrible  an  injustice  tolerated 
by  Heaven,  that  I  was  unable  wholly  to  repent. 
In  the  sudden  illumination  I  was  blinded  :  I  could 
not  clearly  see  my  degree  of  sin.  The  tumult  of 
my  emotions  was  not  altogether  disagreeable ;  I 
had  to  confess  to  myself  that  I  would  not  willingly 
forego  it,  even  if  I  knew  it  wicked.  May  the 
Mother  of  Mercy  intercede  for  me  ! 

Even  now  I  cannot  think  that  in  supposing 
myself  to  have  a  divine  mandate  to  save  the  soul 
of  Benedicta,  and  prepare  her  for  a  life  of  sanctity. 


3Saujri)tcr. 


g5  SJe  i^onft 

antr  tjje 

I  was  wliolly  iu  error.     This  other  human  desire    «. 

-'  X^anQman's 

—  comes  it  not  also  of  God  ?  Is  it  not  concerned 
for  the  good  of  its  object  ?  And  what  can  be  a 
greater  good  than  salvation  of  the  soul  ?  —  a  holy 
life  on  earth,  and  in  Heaven  eternal  happiness  and 
glory  to  reward  it.  Surely  the  sjiiritual  and  the 
carnal  love  are  not  so  widely  different  as  I  have 
been  taught  to  think  them.  They  are,  perhaj)s,  not 
antagonistic,  and  are  but  expressions  of  the  same 
will.  0  holy  Franciscus,  in  this  great  light  that 
has  fallen  about  me,  guide  thou  my  steps.  Show 
to  my  dazzled  eyes  the  straight,  right  way  to 
Benedicta's  good ! 

At  length  the.  sun  disapjieared  behind  the  clois- 
ter. The  flakes  and  cloudlets  gathered  upon  the 
horizon ;  the  haze  rose  from  the  abyss  and  beyond  ; 
the  23urple  shadow  climbed  higher  and  higher ;  the 
great  sloj)e  of  the  mountain  extinguished  at  last 
the  gleam  of  light  upon  the  summit.  Thank  God, 
oh,  thank  God,  she  is  free  ! 


XVIII. 


HAVE  been  very  ill,  but  by 
the  kind  attention  of  the 
brothers  am  suflicieutly  re- 
covered to  leave  my  bed. 
It  must  be  God's  will  that 
I  live  to  serve  Ilim,  for  cer- 
tainly I  have  done  nothing 
to  merit  His  great  mercy  in  restoring  me  to 
health.  Still,  I  feel  a  j^earning  in  my  soul  for 
a  complete  dedication  of  my  jjoor  life  to  Him 
and  His  service.  To  embrace  Him  and  be  bound 
up  in  His  love  is  now  the  only  aspiration  that  I 
have.  As  soon  as  the  holy  oil  is  on  my  brow, 
these  hopes,  I  am  sure,  will  be  fulfilled,  and, 
purged  of  my  hopeless  earthly  passion  for  Bene- 
dicta,  I  shall  be  lifted  into  a  new  and  diviner 
life.  And  it  may  be  that  then  I  can,  without 
offense  to  Heaven  or  peril  to  my  soul,  watch 
over  and  protect  her  far  better  than  I  can  now 
as  a  wretched  monk. 

I  have  been  weak.     My  feet,  like  those  of  an 


ana  tje 

J^anuntan's 

JBaualJtet. 


infant,  failed  to  support  my  body.  The  brothers 
carried  me  into  the  garden.  With  what  gratitude 
I  again  looked  upward  into  the  blue  of  the  sky  ! 
How  rapturously  I  gazed  upon  the  white  peaks 
of  the  mountains  and  the  black  forests  on  their 
slojoes  !  Every  blade  of  grass  seemed  to  me  of 
special  interest^  and  I  greeted  each  passing  insect 
as  if  it  were  an  old  acquaintance. 

My  eyes  wander  to  tlie  south,  where  the  Gal- 
genberg  is,  and  I  think  unceasingly  of  the  poor 
child  of  the  hangman.  What  has  become  of  her  ? 
Has  she  survived  her  terrible  experience  in  the 
public  square  ?  What  is  she  doing  ?  Oh,  that  I 
were  strong  enough  to  walk  to  the  Galgenberg  ! 
But  I  am  not  permitted  to  leave  the  monastery, 
and  there  is  none  of  whom  I  dare  ask  her  fate. 
The  friars  look  at  me  strangely ;  it  is  as  if  they 
no  longer  regarded  me  as  one  of  them.  Why  is 
this  so  ?  I  love  them,  and  desire  to  live  in  har- 
mony with  them.  They  are  kind  and  gentle,  yet 
they  seem  to  avoid  me  as  much  as  they  can. 
What  does  it  all  mean  ? 


JSoeii  the  joi/vus  yuulh  was  silent  now. 


XIX. 


HAVE  been  in  the  presence 
of  the  most  reverend  Superior, 
Father  Andreas.  "Your  re- 
covery was  miraculous,"  said 
he.  "  I  wish  you  to  be  worthy 
of  sucli  mercies,  and  to  pre- 
pare your  soul  for  the  great 
blessing  that  awaits  you.  I  have,  therefore,  my 
son,  ordained  that  you  leave  us  for  a  season,  to 
dwell  ajDart  in  the  solitude  of  the  mountains,  for 
the  double  jDurpose  of  restoring  your  strength  and 
affording  you  an  insight  into  your  own  heart. 
Make  a  severe  examination  apart  from  any  distrac- 
tions, and  you  Avill  perceive,  I  do  not  doubt,  the 
gravity  of  your  error.  Pray  that  a  divine  light 
may  be  shed  upon  your  path,  that  you  may  walk 
upright  in  the  service  of  the  Lord  as  a  true  priest 
and  apostle,  with  immunity  from  all  base  passions 
and  earthly  desires." 

I  had  not  the  presumption  to  reply.     I  submit 
to  the  will  of  His  Eeverence  witliout  a  murmur, 

89 


C:j)c  monk  90 


Kansmxn's 
JBauflStet. 


for  obedience  is  a  rule  of  our  Order.  Nor  do  I 
fear  the  wilderness^  although  I  have  heard  that  it 
is  infested  with  wild  beasts  and  evil  spirits.  Our 
Superior  is  right :  the  time  passed  in  solitude  will 
be  to  me  a  season  of  probation,  purification  and 
healing,  of  which  I  am  doubtless  in  sore  need.  So 
far  I  have  progressed  in  sin  only;  for  in  confession 
I  have  kept  back  many  things.  Not  from  the  fear 
of  punishment,  but  because  I  could  not  mention 
the  name  of  the  maiden  before  any  other  than  my 
holy  and  blessed  Franciscus,  who  alone  can  under- 
stand. He  looks  kindly  down  ujion  me  from  the 
skies,  listening  to  my  sorrow  ;  and  whatever  of 
guilt  there  may  be  in  my  compassion  for  the  inno- 
cent and  persecuted  child  he  willingly  overlooks 
for  the  sake  of  our  blessed  Redeemer,  who  also 
suffered  injustice  and  was  acquainted  with  grief. 

In  the  mountains  it  will  be  my  duty  to  dig 
certain  roots  and  send  them  to  the  monastery. 
From  such  roots  as  I  am  instructed  to  gather  the 
Fathers  distil  a  liquor  which  has  become  famous 
throughout  the  laud,  even  as  far,  I  have  been  told, 
as  the  great  city  of  Munich.  This  liquor  is  so 
strong  and  so  fiery  with  spices  that,  after  drinking 
it,  one  feels  a  burning  in  his  throat  as  if  he  had 
swallowed  a  flame  from  hell ;  yet  it  is  held  in  high 


91  Ciie  iHtorOt 

esteem  everywliere  by  reason  of  its  medicinal  prop-      "^    ^^ 
erties,  it  being  a  remedy  for  many  kinds  of  ills  and  ^^^^^^^  ^ 
infirmities  ;  and  it  is  said  to  be  good  also  for  the    *^"flw^*^* 
health  of  the  soul;,  though  I  should  suppose  a 
goodly  life  might  be  equally  efficacious  in  places 
where  the  liquor  cannot  be  obtained.     However 
this  may  be,  from  the  sale  of  the  liquor  comes  the 
chief  revenue  of  the  monastery. 

The  root  from  which  it  is  chiefly  made  is  that 
of  an  Ali^ine  plant  called  (jentiana,  which  grows 
in  great  abundance  on  the  sides  of  the  mountains. 
In  the  months  of  July  and  August  the  friars  dig 
the  roots  and  dry  them  by  fire  in  the  mountain 
cabiiis,  and  they  are  then  packed  and  sent  to  the 
monastery.  The  Fathers  have  the  sole  right  to 
dig  the  root  in  this  region,  and  the  secret  of  manu- 
facturing the  liquor  is  jealously  guarded. 

As  I  am  to  live  in  the  high  country  for  some 
time,  the  Superior  has  directed  me  to  collect  the 
root  from  time  to  time  as  I  have  the  strength.  A 
boy,  a  servant  in  the  monastery,  is  to  guide  me  to 
my  solitary  station,  carrying  up  my  provisions  and 
returning  immediately.  He  will  come  once  a  week 
to  renew  my  supply  of  food  and  take  away  the 
roots  that  I  shall  have  dug. 

No  time  has  been  lost  in  dispatching  me  on  my 


3I9auj{|)ter. 


anti  tj)e 
-g  penitential   errand.      This   very  evening   I    have 

taken  leave  of  the  Superior,  and,  retiring  to  mj  cell, 
have  jiacked  my  holy  books,  the  Agnus  and  the 
Life  of  Saint  Franciscus,  in  a  bag.  Nor  have  I 
forgotten  writing-materials  with  Avliich  to  continue 
my  diary.  These  preparations  made,  I  have  forti- 
fied my  soul  with  prayer,  and  am  ready  for  any  fate, 
even  an  encounter  with  the  beasts  and  demons. 

Beloved  Saint,  forgive  the  pain  I  feel  in  going 
away  without  having  seen  Benedicta,  or  even 
knowing  what  has  become  of  her  since  that  dread- 
ful day.  Thou  knowest,  0  glorious  one,  and 
humbly  do  I  confess,  that  I  long  to  hasten  to  the 
Galgenberg,  if  only  to  got  one  glimpse  of  the  hut 
which  holds  the  fairest  and  best  of  her  sex.  Take 
me  not,  holy  one,  too  severely  to  task,  I  beseech 
thee,  for  the  weakness  of  my  erring  human  heart ! 


XX. 


f|S  I  left  the  monastery  with 
my  young  guide  all  was 
quiet  within  its  walls ;  the 
holy  brotherhood  slejit  the 
sleep  of  peace,  which  had  so 
long  been  denied  to  me.  It 
was  early  dawn,  and  the 
clouds  in  the  east  were  beginning  to  show  narrow 
edges  of  gold  and  crimson  as  we  ascended  the  path 
leading  to  the  mountain.  My  guide,  with  bag 
upon  his  shoulder,  led,  and  I  followed,  with  my 
cowl  fastened  back  and  a  stout  stick  in  my  hand. 
This  had  a  sharp  iron  point  which  might  be  used 
against  wild  beasts. 

My  guide  was  a  light-haired,  blue-eyed  young 
fellow  with  a  cheerful  and  amiable  face.  He 
evidently  found  a  keen  delight  in  climbing  his 
native  hills  toward  the  high  country  whither  we 
were  bound.  He  seemed  not  to  feel  the  weight 
of  the  burden  that  he  bore  ;  his  gait  was  light  and 


?§ 


Sausjtitet. 


antr  tje 
ffianaman'a  "^^^^^  ^^^^  footing  snre.     He  sprang  uji  the  steep 
and  rugged  way  like  a  mountain-goat. 

The  boy  was  in  high  spirits.  He  told  me  strange 
talcs  of  ghosts  and  goblins,  witches  and  fairies. 
These  last  he  seemed  to  be  very  well  acquainted 
with.  He  said  they  ai^peared  in  shining  garments, 
with  bright  hair  and  beautiful  wings,  and  this 
description  agrees  very  nearly  with  what  is  related 
of  thetn  in  books  by  certain  of  the  Fathers.  Any 
one  to  whom  they  take  a  fancy,  says  the  boy,  they 
are  able  to  keep  under  their  spell,  and  no  one  can 
break  the  enchantment,  not  even  the  Holy  Virgin. 
But  I  judge  that  this  is  true  of  only  such  as  are 
in  sin,  and  that  the  pure  in  heart  have  nothing  to 
fear  from  them. 

AVe  traveled  up  hill  and  down,  through  forests 
and  blooming  meadows  and  across  ravines.  The 
mountain-streams,  hastening  down  to  the  val- 
leys, full-banked  and  noisy,  seemed  to  be  relat- 
ing the  wonderful  things  that  they  had  seen  and 
the  strange  adventures  they  had  met  with  on 
their  way.  Sometimes  the  hillsides  and  the 
woods  resounded  with  nature's  various  voices, 
calling,  whispering,  sighing,  chanting  praises  to 
the  Lord  of  All.  Now  and  again  we  passed  a 
mountaineer's   cabin,  before  which   played   chil- 


95  Cjbe  J«on8; 

anlr  t])t 


dren,  yellow-haired  and  unkempt.  On  seeing 
strangers^  they  rau  away.  But  the  women  came 
forward,  with  infants  in  their  arms,  and  asked 
for  henedictions.  They  offered  us  milk,  butter, 
green  cheese  and  black  bread.  We  frequently 
found  the  men  seated  in  front  of  their  huts,  carv- 
ing wood,  mostly  images  of  our  Savior  ujDon  the 
cross.  These  are  sent  to  the  city  of  Munich, 
where  they  are  offered  for  sale,  bringing,  I  am 
told,  considerable  money  and  much  honor  to  their 
pious  makers. 

At  last  Ave  arrived  at  the  shore  of  a  lake,  but 
a  dense  fog  prevented  a  clear  view  of  it.  A 
clumsy  little  boat  was  found  moored  to  the 
bank ;  my  guide  bade  me  enter  it,  and  presently 
it  seemed  as  if  we  were  gliding  through  the  sky 
in  the  midst  of  the  clouds.  I  had  never  before 
been  on  the  water,  and  felt  a  terrible  misgiving 
lest  we  should  capsize  and  drown.  We  heard 
nothing  but  the  sound  of  the  ripples  against  the 
sides  of  the  boat.  Here  and  there,  as  v/c  ad- 
vanced, some  dark  object  became  dimly  visible 
for  a  moment,  then  vanished  as  suddenly  as  it 
had  appeared,  and  we  seemed  gliding  again 
through  empty  space.  As  the  mist  at  times 
lifted  a  little,  I  observed  great  black  rocks  pro- 


^Dgansman'K 
JBaustter* 


hangman's 
JBaujittcc. 


96 

truding  from  the  water,  and  not  far  from  shore 
were  lying  giant  trees  half  submerged,  with  huge 
limbs  that  looked  like  the  bones  of  some  mon- 
strous skeleton.  The  scene  was  so  full  of  hor- 
rors that  even  the  joyous  youth  was  silent  now, 
his  watchful  eye  ever  seeking  to  penetrate  the 
fog  in  search  of  new  dangers. 

By  all  these  signs  I  knew  that  we  were  crossing 
that  fearful  lake  which  is  haunted  by  ghosts  and 
demons,  and  I  therefore  commended  my  soul  to 
God.  The  power  of  the  Lord  overcomes  all  evil. 
Scarcely  had  I  said  my  prayer  against  the  spirits 
of  darkness,  when  suddenly  the  veil  of  fog  was 
rent  asunder,  and  like  a  great  rose  of  fire  the  sun 
shone  out,  clothing  the  world  in  garments  of  color 
and  gold ! 

Before  this  glorious  eye  of  God  the  darkness 
fled  and  was  no  more.  The  dense  fog,  which  had 
changed  to  a  thin,  transparent  mist,  lingered  a 
little  on  the  mountain-sides,  then  vanished  quite 
away.  Except  in  the  black  clefts  of  the  hills,  no 
vestige  of  it  stayed.  The  lake  was  as  liquid  silver  ; 
the  mountains  were  gold,  bearing  forests  that 
were  like  flames  of  fire.  My  heart  was  filled  with 
wonder  and  gratitude. 

As  our  boat  crept  on  I  observed  that  the  lake, 


97  Srte  ilEonft 

ana  tt)t 

filled  a  lonff,  narrow  basin.    On  our  right  the  cliflfs  ^ 

°  *="  JlQanfiman's 

rose  to  a  great  height,  their  tops  covered  with    _ 

*=  .  ©auflttcr. 

pines,  but  to  the  left  and  in  front  lay  a  pleasant 
land,  where  stood  a  large  building.  This  was 
Saint  Bartholomffi,  the  summer  residence  of  his 
Keverence,  Superior  Andreas. 

This  garden  spot  was  of  no  great  extent :  it 
was  shut  in  on  all  sides  but  that  upon  which  the 
lake  lay  by  cliffs  that  rose  a  thousand  feet  into 
the  air.  High  in  the  front  of  this  awful  wall  was 
set  a  green  meadow,  which  seemed  like  a  great 
jewel  gleaming  upon  the  gray  cloak  of  the  mount- 
ain. My  guide  pointed  it  out  as  the  only  place 
in  all  that  region  where  the  edelweiss  grew. 
This,  then,  was  the  very  place  where  Benedicta 
had  culled  the  lovely  flowers  that  she  had  brouglit 
to  me  during  my  penance.  I  gazed  upward  to 
that  beautiful  but  terrible  spot  with  feelings  that 
I  have  no  words  to  express.  The  youth,  his 
mood  sympathetic  with  the  now  joyous  aspect  of 
nature,  shouted  and  sang,  but  I  felt  the  hot  tears 
rise  into  my  eyes  and  flow  down  upon  my  cheeks, 
and  concealed  my  face  in  my  cowl. 


XXI. 


FTER  leaving  the  boat 
we  climbed  the  mountain. 
Dear  Lord,  nothing  comes 
from  Thy  hand  without  a 
purpose  and  a  use,  but  why 
Thou  shouldst  have  piled 
up  these  mountains,  and 
why  Thou  shouldst  have  covered  them  with 
so  many  stones,  is  a  mystery  to  me,  since  I  can 
see  no  purpose  in  stones,  which  are  a  blessing  to 
neither  man  nor  beast. 

After  hours  of  climbing  we  reached  a  sjDring, 
where  I  sat  down,  faint  and  foot-sore  and  out  of 
breath.  As  I  looked  about  me  the  scene  fully 
justified  all  that  I  had  been  told  of  these  high 
solitudes.  Wherever  I  turned  my  eyes  was  noth- 
ing but  gray,  bare  rocks  streaked  with  red  and 
^yellow  and  brown.  There  were  dreary  wastes  of 
stones  where  nothing  grew  —  no  single  plant  nor 
blade  of  grass — dreadful  abysses  filled  with  ice, 

99 


ano  tt)e      qj^^^  glittering  snowfields  sloping  upward  till  they 
?l}anflmau'3  seemed  to  touch  the  sky. 

»aufll)tet.  Among  the  rocks  I  did,  however,  find  a  few 
flowers.  It  seemed  as  if  the  Creator  of  this  wild 
and  desolate  region  had  himself  found  it  too 
horrible,  and,  reaching  down  to  the  valleys,  had 
gathered  a  handful  of  flowers  and  scattered  them 
in  the  barren  places.  These  flowers,  so  distin- 
guished by  the  Divine  hand,  have  bloomed  with  a 
celestial  beauty  that  none  others  know.  The  boy 
pointed  out  the  plant  whose  root  I  am  to  dig,  as 
well  as  several  strong  and  wholesome  herbs  service- 
able to  man,  among  them  the  golden-flowered  arnica. 
After  an  hour  we  continued  our  journey,  which 
we  pursued  until  I  was  hardly  able  to  drag  my  feet 
along  the  joath.  At  last  we  reached  a  lonely  spot 
surrounded  by  great  black  rocks.  In  the  center 
was  a  miserable  hut  of  stones,  with  a  low  opening 
in  one  side  for  an  entrance,  and  this,  the  youth 
told  me,  was  to  be  my  habitation.  We  entered, 
and  my  heart  sank  to  think  of  dwelling  in  such  a 
place.  There  was  no  furniture  of  any  kind.  A 
wide  bench,  on  which  was  some  dry  Alpine  grass, 
was  to  be  my  bed.  There  was  a  fireplace,  with 
some  Avood  for  fuel,  and  a  few  simple  cooking- 
utensils. 


101  ffi!)e  iWonft 

aiilj  t1[)c 
The  boy  took  up  a  pan  and  ran  away  with  it, 

.  .  JQauflman's 

and,  throwing  myself  down  in  front  of  the  hut,  I 

.  .  .  ©auflttcr. 

was  soon  lost  in  contemplation  of  the  wilderness 

and  terror  of  the  place  in  which  I  was  to  prepare 
my  soul  for  service  of  the  Lord.  The  boy  soon 
returned,  bearing  the  pan  in  both  hands,  and  on 
seeing  me  he  gave  a  joyful  shout,  wliose  echoes 
sounded  like  a  hundred  voices  babbling  among  the 
rocks  on  every  side.  After  even  so  short  a  period 
of  solitude  I  was  so  happy  to  see  a  human  face 
that  I  came  near  answering  his  greeting  with  un- 
becoming joy.  How,  then,  could  I  hope  to 
sustain  a  Aveek  of   isolation  in  that  lonely  spot  ? 

When  the  boy  placed  the  j^an  before  me  it  was 
full  of  milk,  and  he  brought  forth  from  his  cloth- 
ing a  pat  of  yellow  butter,  prettily  adorned  with 
Alpine  flowers  and  a  cake  of  snow-white  cheese 
wrapped  in  aromatic  herbs.  The  sight  delighted 
me,  and  I  asked  him,  jokingly  : 

"Do  butter  and  cheese,  then,  grow  on  stones  up 
here,  and  have  you  found  a  spring  of  milk  ?  " 

"You  might  accomplish  such  a  miracle,"  he 
replied,  "  but  I  prefer  to  hasten  to  the  Black  Lake 
and  ask  this  food  of  the  young  woman  who  lives 
there." 

He  then  got  some  flour  from  a  kind  of  pantry  in 


33aug|)tcr. 


antr  t^e 

the  hut,  and,  having  kindled  a  fire  on  the  hearth, 

proceeded  to  make  a  cake. 

"Then  Ave  are  not  alone  in  this  wilderness,"  I 
said.  "  Tell  me  where  is  that  lake  on  the  shore  of 
Avhich  these  generous  people  dwell." 

"  The  Black  Lake,"  he  replied,  blinking  his  eyes, 
which  were  full  of  smoke,  "is  behind  that  Kogcl 
yonder,  and  the  dairy-house  stands  on  the  edge  of 
the  cliff  above  the  water.  It  is  a  bad  place.  The 
lake  reaches  clear  down  to  Hell,  and  you  can  hear, 
through  the  fissures  of  the  rock,  the  roaring  and 
hissing  of  the  flames  and  the  groans  of  the  souls. 
And  in  no  other  place  in  all  this  world  are  there 
so  many  fierce  and  evil  spirits.  Beware  of  it ! 
You  might  fall  ill  there  in  spite  of  your  sanctity. 
Milk  and  butter  and  cheese  can  be  obtained  at  the 
Green  Lake  lower  down;  but  I  will  tell  the  women 
to  send  up  what  you  require.  They  will  be  glad 
to  oblige  you;  and  if  you  will  preach  them  a  ser- 
mon every  Sunday,  they  will  fight  the  very  devil 
for  you  ! " 

After  onr  meal,  which  I  thought  the  sweetest 
that  I  had  ever  eaten,  the  boy  stretched  himself  in 
the  sunshine  and  straightway  fell  asleep,  snoring 
so  loudly  that,  tired  as  I  was,  I  could  hardly  follow 
his  example. 


XXII. 

'HEN  I  awoke  the  sun  was 
already  behind  the  mount- 
ains, whose  tops  were 
fringed  with  jSre.  I  felt  as 
one  in  a  dream,  but  was  soon 
recalled  to  my  senses,  and 
made  to  feel  that  I  was  alone 
in  the  wilderness  by  shouts  of  the  young  man 
in  the  distance.  Doubtless  he  had  pitied  my  con- 
dition, for,  instead  of  disturbing  me,  he  had  gone 
away  without  taking  leave,  being  compelled  to 
reach  the  dairy  on  the  Green  Lake  before  night- 
fall. Entering  the  cabin,  I  found  a  fire  burning 
lustily  and  a  quantity  of  fuel  piled  beside  it.  Nor 
had  the  thoughtful  youth  forgotten  to  prejiare  my 
supper  of  bread  and  milk.  He  had  also  shaken 
up  the  grass  on  my  hard  bed,  and  covered  it  with  a 
woolen  cloth,  for  which  I  was  truly  grateful  to 
him. 

Refreshed  by  my  long  sleep,  I  remained  outside 
the  cabin  till  late  in  the  evening.  I  said  my 
prayers  in  view  of   the    gray  rocks  beneath  the 

103 


Cije  i»onk  104 

antr   pc      felack  sky,  iu  which   the   stars   blinked   merrily. 
51^anflman's  rpj^^y  seemed  much  more  brilliant  up  here  than 
jsaufil)  ex.    ^|-jgj^  ggg^  from  the  valley,  and  it  was  easy  to  imag- 
ine that,  standing  on  the  extreme  summit,   one 
might  touch  them  with  his  hands. 

Many  hours  of  that  night  I  passed  under  the 
sky  and  the  stars,  examining  my  conscience  and 
questioning  my  heart.  I  felt  as  if  in  church, 
kneeling  before  the  altar  and  feeling  the  awful 
presence  of  the  Lord.  And  at  last  my  soul  was 
filled  with  a  divine  peace,  and  as  an  innocent  child 
presses  its  mother's  breast,  even  so  I  leaned  my 
head  upon  thine,  0  Nature,  mother  of  us  all ! 


XXIII. 


HAD  not  before  seen  a  dawn 
so  glorious  !  The  mountains 
Avere  rose-red,  and  seemed 
almost  transparent.  The 
atmosphere  was  of  a  silvery 
lucidity,  and  so  fresh  and 
pure  that  with  every  breath 
I  seemed  to  be  taking  new  life.  The  dew,  heavy 
and  white,  clung  to  the  scanty  grass-blades  like 
rain  and  dripped  from  the  sides  of  the  rocks. 

It  was  while  engaged  in  my  morning  devotions 
that  I  involuntarily  became  acquainted  with  my 
neighbors.  All  night  long  the  marmots  had 
squealed,  greatly  to  my  dismay,  and  they  were 
now  capering  to  and  fro  like  hares.  Overhead 
the  brown  hawks  sailed  in  circles  with  an  eye  to 
the  birds  flitting  among  the  bushes  and  the  wood- 
mice  racing  along  the  rocks.  Now  and  again  a 
troop  of  chamois  passed  near  on  their  way  to  the 
feeding-grounds  on  the  cliffs,  and  high  above  all  I 
saw  a  single  eagle  rising  into  the  sky,  higher  and 

105 


Cijc  ittonfe  106 

antr  ti)c 


JQanflman's 
33au2l)tcr. 


higher,  as  a  soul  flies  heavenward  when  purged  of 
sin. 

I  was  still  kneeling  when  the  silence  was  broken 
by  the  sound  of  voices.  I  looked  about,  but, 
although  I  could  distinctly  hear  the  voices  and 
catch  snatches  of  song,  I  saw  no  one.  The  sounds 
seemed  to  come  from  the  heart  of  the  mount- 
ain, and,  remembering  the  malevolent  powers  that 
infest  the  place,  I  repeated  a  prayer  against  the 
Evil  One  and  awaited  the  event. 

Again  the  singing  was  heard,  ascending  from  a 
deep  chasm,  and  presently  I  saw  rising  out  of  it 
three  female  figures.  As  soon  as  they  saw  me 
they  ceased  singing  and  uttered  shrill  screams. 
By  this  sign  I  knew  them  to  be  daughters  of  the 
earth,  and  thought  they  might  be  Christians,  and 
so  waited  for  them  to  approach. 

As  they  drew  near  I  observed  that  they  carried 
baskets  on  their  heads,  and  that  they  were  tall, 
good-looking  lasses,  light-haired,  brov/n  in  com- 
plexion and  black-eyed.  Setting  their  baskets 
upon  the  ground,  they  greeted  me  humbly  and 
kissed  my  hands,  after  which  they  opened  the  bas- 
kets and  displayed  the  good  things  they  had 
brought  me  —  milk,  cream,  cheese,  butter  and 
cakes. 


107 

Seating  themselves  upon  the  ground,  they  told 
me  they  were  from  the  Green  Lake,  and  said  they 
were  glad  to  have  a  "mountain  brother"  again, 
especially  so  young  and  handsome  a  one  ;  and,  in 
saying  so,  there  were  merry  twinkles  in  their  dark 
eyes  and  smiles  on  their  red  lips,  which  pleased  me 
exceedingly. 

I  inquired  if  they  were  not  afraid  to  live  in  the 
wilderness,  at  which  they  laughed,  showing  their 
white  teeth.  They  said  they  had  a  hunter's  gun 
in  their  cabin  to  keep  off  bears,  and  knew  several 
powerful  sentences  and  anathemas  against  demons. 
Nor  were  they  very  lonely,  they  added,  for  every 
Saturday  the  boys  from  the  valley  came  up  to  hunt 
wild  beasts,  and  then  all  made  merry.  I  learned 
from  them  that  meadows  and  cabins  were  common 
among  the  rocks,  where  herdsmen  and  herdswomen 
lived  during  the  whole  summer.  The  finest 
meadows,  they  said,  belonged  to  the  monastery,  and 
lay  but  a  short  distance  away. 

The  pleasant  chatting  of  the  maidens  greatly 
delighted  me,  and  the  solitude  began  to  be  less 
oppressive.  Having  received  the  benediction,  they 
kissed  my  hand  and  went  away  as  they  had  come, 
laughing,  singing  and  shouting  in  the  joy  of  youth 
and  health.     So  much  I  have  already  observed  : 


antr  t^e 

Jj^anfltnan's 

3Baufll)trc 


anU  tj3c 


JQanjiman's 
39auai)tcc. 


the  people  in  the  mountains  lead  a  better  and  hap- 
pier life  than  those  in  the  damj),  deejo  valleys  below. 
Also,  they  seem  jDurcr  in  heart  and  mind,  and  that 
may  be  due  to  their  living  so  much  nearer  to 
Heaven,  which  some  of  the  brothers  say  approaches 
more  closely  to  the  earth  here  than  at  any  other 
place  in  the  world  excepting  Rome. 


a. 


XXIV. 


;HE  maidens  having  gone,  I 

stowed  away  the  provisions 

which  they  had  brought  me, 

and,  taking  a  short  pointed 

spade  and  a  bag,   went   in 

search  of  the  gentiaua  roots. 

They  grew  in    abundance, 

and  my  back  soon  began  to  ache  from  stooping 

and   digging ;   but   I   continued  the   labor,  for  I 

desired  to  send  a  good  quantity  to  the  monastery 

to  attest  my  zeal  and  obedience.     I  had  gone  a 

long  distance    from  my  cabin  without  observing 

the  direction  which  I  had  taken,  when  suddenly  I 

found  myself  on  the  brink  of  an  abyss  so  deep  and 

terrible  that  I  recoiled  with  a  cry  of  horror.     At 

the  bottom  of  this  chasm,  so  far  below  my  feet 

that  I  was  giddy  to  look  down,  a  small  circular 

lake  was  visible,  like  the  eye  of  a  fiend.     On  the 

shore  below,  near  a  clifE  overhanging  the  water, 

stood  a  cabin,   from  the   stone-weighted   roof  of 

which  rose  a  thin  column  of  blue  smoke.     About 
109 


STijc  ifttonft  110 

the  cabin,  iu  the  narrow  and  sterile  pasture,  a  few 
cows  and  sheeio  were  grazing.  What  a  dreadful 
place  for  a  human  habitation  ! 

I  was  still  gazing  down  with  fear  into  this  gulf 
when  I  was  again  startled  :  I  heard  a  voice  dis- 
tinctly call  my  name !  The  sound  came  from 
behind  me,  and  my  name  was  uttered  with  so 
caressing  sweetness  that  I  hastened  to  cross  myself 
as  a  protection  from  the  wiles  of  the  fairies  with 
their  sj)ells  and  enchantments.  Soon  I  heard  the 
voice  again,  and  this  time  it  caused  my  heart  to 
beat  so  that  I  was  near  suffocation,  for  it  Avas 
Bencdicta's  !  Benedicta  in  this  wilderness,  and  I 
alone  with  her  !  Surely  I  now  had  need  of  thy 
guidance,  blessed  Franciscus,  to  keep  my  feet  in 
the  path  of  the  Divine  purpose. 

I  turned  about  and  saw  her.  She  was  now 
springing  from  rock  to  rock,  looking  backward 
and  calling  a  name  that  was  strange  to  me. 
When  she  saw  that  I  looked  at  her  she  stood 
motionless.  I  walked  to  her,  greeting  her  in  the 
name  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  though,  God  forgive 
me  !  hardly  able  in  the  tumult  of  my  emotions  to 
articulate  that  holy  title. 

Ah,  how  changed  the  poor  child  was  !  The 
lovely  face  was  as  pale  as  marble  ;  the  large  eyes 


Ill  me  l^onfe 

anti  t|)e 


were  sunken  and  inexpressibly  sad.  Her  beauti- 
ful hair  alone  was  unaltered^,  flowing  over  her 
shoulders  like  threads  of  gold.  We  stood  looking 
at  one  another^  silent  from  surprise  ;  then  I  again 
addressed  her  : 

"Is  it,  then,  you,  Benedicta,  who  live  in  the 
cabin  down  there  by  the  Black  Lake  —  near  the 
waters  of  Avernus  ?  And  is  your  father  with 
you  ?  " 

She  made  no  reply,  but  I  observed  a  quivering 
about  her  delicate  mouth,  as  when  a  child  endeav- 
ors to  refrain  from  weeping.  I  repeated  my  ques- 
tion :  "  Is  your  father  with  you  ?  " 

She  answered  faintly,  in  a  tone  that  was  hardly 
more  than  a  sigh  : 

*'  My  father  is  dead. " 

I  felt  a  sudden  pain  in  my  very  heart,  and  was 
for  some  moments  unable  to  speak  further,  quite 
overcome  by  compassion.  Benedicta  had  turned 
away  her  face  to  hide  her  tears,  and  her  fragile 
frame  was  shaken  by  her  sobs.  I  could  no  longer 
restrain  myself.  Stepping  up  to  her,  I  took  her 
hand  in  mine,  and,  trying  to  crush  back  into  my 
secret  heart  every  human  desire,  and  address  her 
in  words  of  religious  consolation,  I  said  : 

"My  child  —  dear   Benedicta  —  your  father  is 


3i)augt)tc»r. 


Cl)c  i»onfe  112 

ant)  t\)t 


SaucSter. 


gone  from  you,  but  another  Father  remains  who 
_  will  protect  you  every  day  of  your  life.     And  as 

far  as  may  accord  with  His  holy  will  I,  too,  good 
and  beautiful  maiden,  will  helj)  you  to  endure  your 
great  affliction.  He  whom  you  mourn  is  not  lost ; 
he  is  gone  to  the  mercy  seat,  and  God  will  be 
gracious  to  him." 

But  my  words  seemed  only  to  awaken  her  sleep- 
ing grief.  She  threw  herself  upon  the  ground 
and  gave  Avay  to  her  tears,  sobbing  so  violently  that 
I  w^as  filled  with  alarm.  0  Mother  of  Mercy ! 
how  can  I  bear  the  memory  of  the  anguish  I  suf- 
fered in  seeing  this  beautiful  and  innocent  child 
overwhelmed  with  so  great  a  flood  of  grief  ?  I 
bent  over  her,  and  my  own  tears  fell  upon  her 
golden  hair.  My  heart  urged  me  to  lift  her  from 
the  earth,  but  my  hands  were  powerless  to  move. 
At  length  she  composed  herself  somewhat  and 
spoke,  but  as  if  she  were  talking  to  herself  rather 
than  to  me  : 

"  Oh,  my  father,  my  poor,  heart-broken  father  ! 
Yes,  he  is  dead  —  they  killed  him  —  he  died  long 
ago  of  grief.  My  beautiful  mother,  too,  died  of 
grief — of  grief  and  remorse  for  some  great  sin,  I 
know  not  what,  which  he  had  forgiven  her.  He 
could  not  but  be  compassionate  and  merciful.     His 


5^ 


i> 


JDauuJjter. 


antt  tjje 
heart  was  too  tender  to  let  him  kill  a  worm  or  a 

beetle,  and  he  was  compelled  to  kill  men.  His 
father  and  his  father^s  fathers  had  lived  and  died 
in  the  Galgenberg.  They  were  hangmen  all,  and 
the  awfnl  inheritance  fell  to  him :  there  was  no 
escape,  for  the  terrible  people  held  him  to  the  trade. 
I  have  heard  him  say  that  he  was  often  tempted  to 
kill  himself,  and  bnt  for  me  I  am  sure  he  would  have 
done  so.  He  could  not  leave  me  to  starve,  though 
he  had  to  see  me  reviled,  and  at  last,  0  Holy 
Virgin  !  publicly  disgraced  for  that  of  which  I 
was  not  guilty." 

As  Benedicta  made  this  reference  to  the  great 
injustice  that  she  had  been  made  to  suHcr  her 
white  cheeks  kindled  to  crimson  with  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  shame  which  for  her  father's  sake  she 
had,  at  the  time  of  it,  so  differently  endured. 
During  the  narrative  of  her  grief  she  had  partly 
risen  and  had  turned  her  beautiful  face  more  and 
more  toward  me  as  her  confidence  had  groAvn ;  but 
now  she  veiled  it  with  her  hair,  and  would  have 
turned  her  back  but  that  I  gently  prevented  her 
and  spoke  some  words  of  comfort,  though  God 
knows  my  own  heart  was  near  breaking  through 
sympathy  with  hers.  After  a  few  moments  she 
resumed: 


EJe  i«onk  114 

anti  tjje 


AanQman's 
9aug])t(r. 


"  Alas,  my  poor  fatlier  !  lie  was  unhappy  every 
way.  Not  even  the  comfort  of  seeing  his  child 
baptized  was  granted  him.  I  was  a  hangman's 
daughter,  and  my  parents  were  forbidden  to  pre- 
sent me  for  baptism;  nor  could  any  priest  be  found 
who  was  willing  to  bless  me  in  the  name  of  the 
Holy  Trinity.  So  they  gave  me  the  name  Bene- 
dicta,  and  blessed  me  themselves,  over  and  over 
again. 

"  I  was  only  an  infant  when  my  beautiful  mother 
died.  They  buried  her  in  uncousecrated  ground. 
She  could  not  go  to  the  Heavenly  Father  in  the 
mansions  above,  but  was  thrust  into  the  flames. 
While  she  was  dying  my  father  had  hastened  to 
the  Reverend  Superior,  imploring  him  to  send  a 
priest  with  the  sacrament.  His  prayer  was  denied. 
No  priest  came,  and  my  j)oor  father  closed  her  eyes 
himself,  while  his  own  were  blind  with  tears  of 
anguish  for  her  terrible  fate. 

"  And  all  alone  he  had  to  dig  her  grave.  He 
had  no  other  place  than  near  the  gallows,  where 
he  had  so  often  buried  the  hanged  and  the  accurst. 
With  his  own  hands  he  had  to  place  her  in  that 
unholy  ground,  nor  could  any  masses  be  said  for 
her  suffering  soul. 

"  I  well  remember  how  my  dear  father  took  me 


115  ?rt)e  i[«onfe 

anlJ  tje 

then  to  the  imap^e  of  the  Holy  Virgin  and  bade 

.    .  .  J^angman's 

me  kneel,  and,  joining  my  little  hands,  taught  me 

to  pray  for  my  poor  mother,  who  had  stood  unde- 
fended before  the  terrible  Judge  of  the  Dead. 
This  I  have  done  every  morning  and  evening  since 
that  day,  and  now  I  pray  for  both  ;  for  my  father 
also  has  died  unshriven,  and  his  soul  is  not  with 
God,  but  burns  in  unceasing  fire. 

"  When  he  was  dying  I  ran  to  the  Superior,  just 
as  he  had  done  for  my  dear  mother.  I  besought 
him  on  my  knees.  I  prayed  and  wept  and 
embraced  his  feet,  and  would  have  kissed  his  hand 
but  that  he  snatched  it  away.  He  commanded 
me  to  go." 

As  Benedicta  proceeded  with  her  narrative  she 
gained  courage.  She  rose  to  her  feet  and  stood 
erect,  threw  back  her  beautiful  head  and  lifted 
her  eyes  to  the  heavens  as  if  recounting  her 
wrongs  to  God's  high  angels  and  ministers  of 
doom.  She  stretched  forth  her  bare  arms  in  gest- 
ures of  so  natural  force  and  grace  that  I  was  filled 
with  astonishment,  and  her  unstudied  words  came 
from  her  lips  with  an  eloquence  of  which  I  liad 
never  before  had  any  conception.  I  dare  not 
think  it  inspiration,  for,  God  forgive  us  all  !  every 
word  was  an  unconscious  arraignment  of  Him  and 


Cjljc  Jttonft  lie 

ano  tpc       -gjg  Holy  Church  ;  yet  surely  uo  mortal  with  lips 
jlQanflman  s   ^i^touched  by  a  live  coal  from  the  altar  ever  so 

*au3Btet.  gp^]^g  before  !  In  the  presence  of  tliis  strange  and 
gifted  being  I  so  felt  my  own  unworth  that  I  had 
surely  knelt,  as  before  a  blessed  saint,  but  that 
she  suddenly  concluded,  with  a  pathos  that 
touched  me  to  tears. 

"The  cruel  peoj^le  killed  him,"  she  said,  with  a 
sob  in  the  heart  of  every  word.  "  They  laid  hands 
upon  me  Avhom  he  loved.  They  charged  me 
falsely  with  a  foul  crime.  They  attired  mo  in 
a  garment  of  dishonor,  and  put  a  crown  of  straw 
upon  my  head,  and  hung  about  my  neck  the  black 
tablet  of  shame.  They  spat  upon  me  and  reviled 
me,  and  compelled  him  to  lead  me  to  the  pillory, 
where  I  was  bound  and  struck  with  whijjs  and 
stones.  That  broke  his  great,  good  heart,  and  so 
he  died,  and  I  am  alone." 


XXV. 


HEN  Benedicta  had  finished 
I  remained  silent,  for  in  the 
presence  of  siich  a  sorrow 
what  could  I  say  ?  For 
such  wounds  as  hers  relig- 
ion has  no  balm.  As  I 
thought  of  the  cruel  wrongs 
of  this  humble  and  harmless  family  there  came 
into  my  heart  a  feeling  of  wild  rebellion  against 
the  world,  against  the  Church,  against  God ! 
They  were  brutally  unjust,  horribly,  devilishly 
unjust ! —  God,  the  Church,  and  the  world. 

Our  very  surroundings  —  the  stark  and  soulless 
wilderness,  perilous  Avitli  precipices  and  bleak  with 
everlasting  snows  —  seemed  a  visible  embodiment  of 
the  Avoeful  life  to  which  the  poor  child  had  been 
condemned  from  birth  ;  and  truly  this  was  more 
than  fancy,  for  since  her  father's  death  had  de- 
jDrived  her  of  even  so  humble  a  home  as  the  hang- 
man's hovel  she  had  been  driven  to  these  eternal 

solitudes  by   the   stress  of  want.     But  below  us 
117 


?!r|)c  ittonft 

JUanijman's 
JSausttev. 


118 

were  i:)leasant  villages,  fertile  fields,  green  gardens, 
and  homes  where  jjeace  and  plenty  abided  all  the 
year. 

After  a  time,  when  Benedicta  was  somewhat 
composed,  I  asked  her  if  she  had  any  one  with 
her  for  protection. 

"I  have  none,"  she  rei^lied.  But  observing  my 
look  of  pain,  she  added  :  "  I  have  always  lived 
in  lonely,  accurst  places ;  I  am  accustomed  to 
that.  Now  that  my  father  is  dead,  there  is  no 
one  who  cares  even  to  speak  to  me,  nor  any 
whom  I  care  to  talk  with  —  except  you."  After 
a  pause  she  said  :  "  True,  there  is  one  who  cares 
to  see  me,  but  he" 

Here  she  broke  off,  and  I  did  not  press  her 
to  explain  lest  it  should  embarrass  her.  Pres- 
ently she  said  : 

"  I  knew  yesterday  that  you  were  here.  A  boy 
came  for  some  milk  and  butter  for  you.  If  you 
were  not  a  holy  man,  the  boy  would  not  have 
come  to  me  for  your  food.  As  it  is,  you  cannot 
be  harmed  by  the  evil  which  attaches  to  every- 
thing I  have  or  do.  Are  you  sure,  though,  that 
you  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  the  food 
yesterday  ?  " 

"Had  I  known  that  it  came  from  yon,    Bene- 


119  me  i«onft 

antr  tije 


dicta,  that  precaution  would  have  been  omitted," 
I  answered. 

She  looked  at  me  with  beaming  eyes,  and  said  : 

"  Oh,  dear  sir,  dear  Brother  ! " 

And  both  the  look  and  the  words  gave  me  the 
keenest  delight — us,  in  truth,  do  all  this  saintly 
creature's  words  and  ways. 

I  inquired  what  had  brought  her  to  the  cliff- 
top,  and  who  the  person  was  that  I  had  heard 
her  calling. 

"It  is  no  person,"  she  answered,  smiling  ;  "it  is 
only  my  goat.  She  has  strayed  away,  and  I  was 
searching  for  her  among  the  rocks." 

Then  nodding  to  me  as  if  about  to  say  farewell, 
she  turned  to  go,  but  I  detained  her,  saying  that  I 
would  assist  her  to  look  for  the  goat. 

AVe  soon  discovered  the  animal  in  a  crevice  of 
rock,  and  so  glad  was  Benedicta  to  find  her 
humble  companion  that  she  knelt  by  its  side,  put 
her  arms  about  its  neck  and  called  it  by  many 
endearing  names.  I  thought  tliis  very  charming, 
and  could  not  help  lookiug  upon  the  group  with 
obvious  admiration.    Benedicta,  observing  it,  said  : 

"  Her  mother  fell  from  a  cliS  and  broke  her  neck. 
I  took  the  little  one  and  brought  it  up  on  milk. 


3Bauflt)ter. 


anU  tt)e 

JSangman's 

3Bauflt)ter. 


120 

and  she  is  very  fond  of  me.  One  avIio  lives  aloue 
as  I  do  values  the  love  of  a  faithful  animal." 

When  the  maiden  Avas  about  to  leave  me  I 
gained  courage  to  speak  to  her  of  what  had  been 
so  long  in  my  mind.  I  said  :  "  It  is  true,  is  it  not, 
Benedicta,  that  on  tlie  night  of  the  festival  you 
went  to  meet  the  drunken  boys  in  order  to  save 
your  father  froui  harm  ?  " 

She  looked  at  me  in  great  astonishment.  "  For 
what  other  reason  could  you  suppose  I  went  ?  " 

"I  could  not  think  of  any  other,"  I  replied,  in 
some  confusion. 

"And  now,  good-by,  Brother,"  she  said,  mov- 
ing away. 

"Benedicta,"  I  cried.  She  paused  and  turned 
her  head. 

"  Next  Sunday  I  shall  preach  to  the  dairy  women 
at  the  Green  Lake  ;  will  you  come  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,  dear  Brother,"  she  replied,  hesitating 
and  in  low  tones. 

"  You  will  not  come  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  come,  but  my  presence  would 
frighten  away  the  dairy  women  and  otliers  whom 
your  goodness  would  bring  there  to  hear  you. 
Your  charity  to  me  would  cause  you  trouble.     I 


121  ?CJ)f  iWor* 

antr  t|)e 
pray  yon.  sir,  accept  my  thanks,  bnt  I   cannot  ^ 

come."  ^ 

]9aug))Ur. 

"Then  I  shall  come  to  yon." 
"  Beware,  oh,  pray,  beware  I " 
"I  shall  come." 


XXVI. 

HE  boy  had  taught  me  how 
to  prepare  a  cake.  I  knew  all 
that  went  to  the  making  of 
it,  and  the  right  propor- 
tions, yet  when  I  tried  to 
make  it  I  could  not.  All  that 
I  was  able  to  make  was  a 
smoky,  greasy  pap,  more  fit  for  the  mouth  of  Satan 
than  for  a  pious  son  of  the  Church  and  follower  of 
Saint  Franciscus.  My  failure  greatly  discouraged 
me,  yet  it  did  not  destroy  my  appetite  ;  so,  taking 
some  stale  bread,  I  dipped  it  in  sour  milk  and  was 
about  to  make  my  stomach  do  penance  for  its  many 
sins,  when  Benedicta  came  with  a  basketful  of 
good  things  from  her  dairy.  Ah,  the  dear  child  ! 
I  fear  that  it  was  not  with  my  heart  only  that  I 
greeted  her  that  blessed  morning. 

Observing  the  smoky  mass  in  the  pan,  she 
smiled,  and  quietly  throwing  it  to  the  birds  (which 
may  Heaven  guard  ! )  she  cleansed  the  pan  at  the 
spring,  anu,      "^urning,   arranged   the  fire.     She 

123 


anlr  tje 

3IQansntan'0 

I9aug't)tec. 


124 

then  prepared  the  material  for  a  fresh  cake. 
Taking  two  hanclfuls  of  flour,  she  put  it  into  an 
earthen  bowl,  and  upon  the  top  of  it  poured  a  cup 
of  cream.  Adding  a  pinch  of  salt,  she  mixed  the 
whole  vigorously  with  her  slender  white  hands 
until  it  became  a  soft,  swelling  dough.  She  next 
greased  the  pan  with  a  piece  of  yellow  butter,  and, 
pouring  the  dough  into  it,  placed  it  on  the  fire. 
When  the  heat  had  penetrated  the  dough,  causing 
it  to  expand  and  rise  above  the  sides  of  the  pan, 
she  deftly  pierced  it  here  and  there  that  it  should 
not  burst,  and  when  it  was  well  browned  she  took 
it  up  and  set  it  before  me,  all  unworthy  as  I  was. 
I  invited  her  to  share  the  meal  with  me,  but  she 
would  not.  She  insisted,  too,  that  I  should  cross 
myself  before  partaking  of  anything  that  she  had 
brought  me  or  prepared,  lest  some  evil  come  to 
me  because  of  the  ban  upon  her  ;  but  this  I  would 
not  consent  to  do.  While  I  ate  she  culled  flowers 
from  among  the  rocks,  and,  making  a  wreath,  hung 
it  upon  the  cross  in  front  of  the  cabin  ;  after 
which,  when  I  had  finished,  she  employed  herself 
in  cleansing  the  dishes  and  arranging  everything 
in  order  as  it  should  be,  so  that  I  imagined  myself 
far  more  comfortable  than  before,  even  in  merely 
looking  about  me.    When  there  v/;.  nothing  more 


1-5  5j,e  fmont 

to  be  done,  and  my  conscience  would  not  permit      ^"     "^ 
me  to  invent  reasons  for  detaining  her,  she  went  ™^"Oinan  « 
away,  and  oh,  my  Savior  !  how  dismal  and  dreary    ®^^SP  «♦ 
seemed  the  day  when  she  was  gone  !     Ah,  Bene- 
dicta,  Benedicta,  what  is  this  that  thou  hast  done 
to  me  ?  —  making  that  sole  service  of  the  Lord  to 
which  I  am  dedicated  seem  less  happy  and  less 
holy  than  a  herdsman's  humble  life  here  in  the 
wilderness  with  thee  ! 


XXVII. 


[IFE  up  licre  is  less  disagree- 
able than  I  thought.  What 
seemed  to  mo  a  dreary  soli- 
tude seems  now  less  dismal 
and  desolate.  This  mount- 
ain Av  i  1  d  e  r  n  c  s  s ,  whieli  at 
first  filled  me  Avith  aAvo, 
gradually  reveals  its  benign  cliai'acter.  It  is  mar- 
velously  beautiful  in  its  grandeur,  with  a  beauty 
which  purifies  and  elevates  the  soul.  One  can 
read  in  it^  as  in  a  book,  the  praises  of  its  Creator. 
Daily,  while  digging  gentiana  roots,  I  do  not  fail 
to  listen  to  the  voice  of  the  wilderness  and  to  com- 
pose and  chasten  my  soul  more  and  more. 

In  these  mountains  are  no  feathered  songsters. 
The  birds  here  utter  only  shrill  cries.  The  flowers, 
too,  are  without  fragrance,  but  wondrously  beauti- 
ful, shining  with  the  fire  and  gold  of  stars.  I  have 
seen  slopes  and  heights  here  Avhich  doubtless  were 
never  trodden  by  any  human  foot.     They  seem  to 

127 


Ct)t  i«onft  128 

me  sacred,  the  touch  of  the  Creator  still  visible 
upon  them,  as  when  they  came  from  His  hand. 

Game  is  in  great  abundance.  Chamois  are  some- 
times seen  in  such  droves  that  the  very  hill-sides 
seem  to  move.  There  are  steinbocks,  veritable 
monsters,  but  as  yet,  thank  Heaven,  I  have  seen 
no  bears.  Marmots  play  about  me  like  kittens, 
and  eagles,  the  grandest  creatures  in  this  high 
world,  nest  in  the  cliffs  to  be  as  near  the  sky  as 
they  can  get. 

When  fatigued  I  stretch  myself  on  the  Alpine 
grass,  which  is  as  fragrant  as  the  most  precious 
spices.  I  close  my  eyes  and  hear  the  wind  v/hisper 
through  the  tall  stems,  and  in  my  heart  is  peace, 
Blessed  be  the  Lord  ! 


XXVIII. 

VERY  morning  the  dairy 
women  come  to-  my  cabin, 
their  merry  shouts  ringing 
in  the  air  and  echoed  from 
the  hills.  They  bring  fresh 
milk,  butter  and  cheese, 
chat  a  little  while  and  go 
away.  Each  day  they  relate  something  new  that 
has  occurred  in  the  mountains  or  been  reported 
from  the  villages  below.  They  are  joyous  and 
happy,  and  look  forward  with  delight  to  Sunday, 
when  there  will  be  divine  service  in  the  morning 
and  a  dance  in  the  evening. 

Alas,  these  happy  people  are  not  free  of  the  sin 
of  bearing  false  witness  against  their  neighbor. 
They  have  spoken  to  me  of  Benedicta —  called  her 
a  disgraceful  wench,  a  hangman's  daughter  and 
(my  heart  rebels  against  its  utterance)  the  mistress 
of  Eochus  !  The  pillory,  they  said,  was  made  for 
such  as  she. 

Hearing  these  maidens    talk    so    bitterly  and 

9  129 


2rt)e  iKonft  130 


©auflljter. 


falsely  of  one  whom  tliey  so  little  knew,  it  was 
with  diflficulty  that  I  mastered  my  indignation. 
But  in  pity  of  their  ignorance  I  reprimanded  them 
gently  and  kindly.  It  was  wrong,  I  said,  to  con- 
demn a  fellow-being  unheard.  It  was  unchristian 
to  speak  ill  of  any  one. 

They  do  not  understand.  It  surprises  them 
that  I  defend  a  person  like  Benedicta  —  one  who, 
as  they  truly  say,  has  been  publicly  disgraced  and 
has  not  a  friend  in  the  world. 


XXIX. 


HIS  morning  I  visited  the 
Black  Lake.  It  is  indeed 
an  awful  and  accursed  place, 
fit  for  the  habitation  of  the 
damned.  And  there  lives 
the  poor  forsaken  child  ! 
Approaching  the  cabin,  I 
could  see  a  fire  burning  on  the  hearth,  and  over  it 
was  suspended  a  kettle.  Benedicta  was  seated  on 
a  low  stool,  looking  into  the  flames.  Her  face  was 
illuminated  with  a  crimson  gloAv,  and  I  could 
observe  heavy  tear-drops  on  her  cheeks. 

Not  wishing  to  see  her  secret  sorrow,  I  hastened 
to  make  known  my  presence,  and  addressed  her  as 
gently  as  I  could.  She  was  startled,  but  when  she 
saw  who  it  was,  smiled  and  blushed.  She  rose 
and  came  to  greet  me,  and  I  began  speaking  to 
her  almost  at  random,  in  order  that  she  might 
recover  her  composure.  I  spoke  as  a  brother 
might  speak  to  his  sister,  yet  earnestly,  for  my 
heart  was  full  of  compassion. 

131 


anO  tije 
29aufll)tet. 


132 

"Oh,  Benedicta,"  I  said,  "I  know  your  heart, 
and  it  has  more  love  for  that  wild  youth  Eochus 
than  for  our  dear  and  blessed  Savior.  I  know 
how  willingly  you  bore  infamy  and  disgrace,  sus- 
tained by  the  thought  that  he  knew  you  innocent. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  condemn  you,  for  what  is 
holier  or  purer  than  a  maiden's  love  ?  I  would 
only  warn  and  save  you  from  the  consequence  of 
having  given  it  to  one  so  unworthy." 

She  listened  with  her  head  bowed,  and  said 
nothing,  but  I  could  hear  her  sighs.  I  saw,  too, 
that  she  trembled.     I  continued  : 

"Benedicta,  the  passion  which  fills  your  heart 
may  prove  your  destruction  in  this  life  and  here- 
after. Young  Rochus  is  not  one  who  will  make 
you  his  wife  in  the  sight  of  God  and  man.  Why 
did  he  not  stand  forth  and  defend  you  when  you 
were  falsely  accused  ?  " 

"He  was  not  there,"  she  said,  lifting  her  eyes 
to  mine ;  "  he  and  his  father  were  at  Salzburg. 
He  knew  nothing  till  tliey  told  him." 

May  God  forgive  me  if  at  this  I  felt  no  joy  in 
another's  acquittal  of  the  heavy  sin  with  which  I 
had  charged  him.  I  stood  a  moment  irresolute, 
with  my  head  bowed,  silent. 

"But,    Benedicta,"   I  resumed,   "will   he  take 


33augjl)tet. 


133  ^^^  iHonft 

ano  tl)c 
for  a  wife  one  M'liose  good  name  has  been  black- 
ened in  the  sight  of  his  family  and  his  neighbors  ? 
No,  he  does  not  seek  3'ou  with  an  honorable  pur- 
pose. Oh,  Benedicta,  confide  in  me.  Is  it  not  as 
I  say  ?" 

But  she  remained  silent,  nor  could  I  draw  from 
her  a  single  word.  She  would  only  sigh  and 
tremble  ;  she  seemed  unable  to  speak.  I  saw  that 
she  was  too  weak  to  resist  the  temptation  to  love 
young  Rochns;  nay,  I  saw  that  her  whole  heart 
was  bound  up  in  him,  and  my  soul  melted  with 
pity  and  sorrow  —  pity  for  her  and  sorrow  for 
myself,  for  I  felt  that  my  power  was  unequal  to 
the  command  that  had  been  laid  upon  me.  My 
agony  was  so  keen  that  I  could  hardly  refrain 
from  crying  out. 

I  went  from  her  cabin,  but  did  not  return  to 
my  own.  I  wandered  about  the  haunted  shore  of 
the  Black  Lake  for  hours,  without  aim  or  inw- 
pose. 

Reflecting  bitterly  upon  my  failure,  and  beseech- 
ing God  for  greater  grace  and  strength,  it  was 
revealed  to  me  that  I  was  an  unworthy  disciple  of 
the  Lord  and  a  faithless  son  of  the  Church.  I 
became  more  keenly  conscious  than  I  ever  had 
been  before  of  the  earthly  nature  of  my  love  for 


anti  t1)c 

JQanjjman's 

iSauQljter. 


134 

Benedicta,  and  of  its  sinfulness.  I  felt  that  I  had 
not  given  my  whole  heart  to  God,  but  was  clinging 
to  a  temporal  and  human  hope.  It  was  plain  to 
me  that  unless  my  love  for  the  sweet  child  should 
be  changed  to  a  jmrely  spiritual  affection,  purified 
from  all  the  dross  of  passion,  I  could  never  receive 
holy  orders,  but  should  remain  always  a  monk  and 
always  a  sinner.  These  reflections  caused  me  great 
torment,  and  in  my  despair  I  cast  myself  down 
upon  the  earth,  calling  aloud  to  my  Savior.  In 
this  my  greatest  trial  I  clung  to  the  Cross.  "  Save 
me,  0  Lord  ! "  I  cried.  "  I  am  engulfed  in  a  great 
passion  —  save  me,  oh,  save  me,  or  I  perish  for- 
ever ! " 

All  that  night  I  struggled  and  prayed  and  fought 
against  the  evil  spirits  in  my  soul,  with  their  sug- 
gestions of  recreancy  to  the  dear  Church  whose 
child  I  am. 

"The  Church,"  they  whispered,  "has  servants 
enough.  You  are  not  as  yet  irrevocably  bound  to 
celibacy.  You  can  procure  a  dispensation  from 
your  monastic  vows  and  remain  here  in  the  mount- 
ains, a  layman.  You  can  learn  the  craft  of  the 
hunter  or  the  herdsman,  and  be  ever  near  Bene- 
dicta to  guard  and  guide  her  —  perhaps  in  time 


135  ^\>t  i^onfe 


to  win  her  love  from  Eochus  and   take   her  for 
your  wife." 

To  these  temptations  I  opposed  my  feeble 
strength  and  such  aid  as  the  blessed  Saint  gave 
me  in  my  great  trial.  The  contest  was  long  and 
agonizing,  and  more  than  once,  there  in  the  dark- 
ness and  the  wilderness,  which  rang  with  my  cries, 
I  was  near  surrender  ;  but  at  the  dawning  of  the 
day  I  became  more  tranquil,  and  peace  once  more 
filled  my  heart,  even  as  the  golden  light  filled  the 
great  gorges  of  the  mountain  where  but  a  few 
moments  before  were  the  darkness  and  the  mist. 
I  thought  then  of  the  suffering  and  death  of  our 
Savior,  who  died  for  the  redemption  of  the  world, 
and  most  fervently  I  prayed  that  Heaven  would 
grant  me  the  great  boon  to  die  likewise,  in  a  hum- 
bler way,  even  though  it  were  for  but  one  suffering 
being  —  Benedicta. 

May  the  Lord  hear  my  prayer  ! 


lIDauflt)tcr. 


XXX. 


HE  night  before  the  Sunday 
ou  which  I  was  to  hold  di- 
vine service  great  fires  were 
kindled  on  the  clitfs  —  a  sig- 
nal for  the  young  men  in 
the  valley  to  come  up  to  the 
mountain  dairies.  They 
came  in  great  numbers,  shouting  and  screaming, 
and  were  greeted  with  songs  and  shrill  cries  by 
the  dairy  maidens,  who  swung  flaming  torches  that 
lit  up  the  faces  of  the  great  rocks  and  sent  gigan- 
tic shadows  across  them.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight. 
These  are  iiideed  a  happy  people. 

The  monastery  boy  came  in  with  the  rest.  He 
will  remain  over  Sunday,  and,  returning,  wall  take 
back  the  roots  that  I  have  dug.  He  gave  me 
much  news  from  the  monastery.  The  reverend 
Superior  is  living  at  Saint  Bartholomae,  fishing 
and  hunting.  Another  thing  —  one  which  gives 
me  great  alarm  —  is  that  the  Saltmaster's  son, 
young  Rochus,  is  in  the  mountains  not  far  from 

137 


anil  tl)e 

_..  ,      the  Black  Lake.     It  seems  he  lias  a  hnnting-lodge 

J^anuntan  s  *        ° 

_«  •  .  on  the  ni^ioer  cliff,  and  a  path  leads  from  it 
directly  to  the  lake.  The  boy  told  me  this,  but 
did  not  observe  how  I  trembled  when  hearing  it. 
AVould  that  an  angel  with  a  flaming  sword  might 
guard,  the  path  to  the  lake,  and  to  Benedicta ! 

The  shouting  and  singing  continued  during  the 
whole  night,  and  between  this  and  the  agitation  in 
my  soul  I  did  not  close  my  eyes.  Early  the  next 
morning  the  boys  ami  girls  arrived  in  crowds  from 
all  directions.  The  maidens  wore  silken  kerchiefs 
twisted  prettily  about  their  heads,  and  had  deco- 
rated themselves  and  their  escorts  with  flowers. 

Not  being  an  ordained  priest,  it  was  not  per- 
mitted me  either  to  read  mass  or  to  preach  a  ser- 
mon, but  I  prayed  v»'ith  them  and  spoke  to  them 
whatever  my  aching  heart  found  to  say.  I  spoke 
to  them  of  our  sinfulness  and  God's  great  mercy  ; 
of  our  harshness  to  one  another  and  the  Savior's 
love  for  us  all ;  of  Ilis  infinite  compassion.  As 
my  words  echoed  from  the  abyss  below  and  the 
heights  above  I  felt  as  if  I  were  lifted  out  of  this 
world  of  sufl:ering  and  sin  and  borne  away  on 
angels'  wings  to  the  radiant  spheres  beyond  the 
sky  !     It  was  a  solemn  service,  and  my  little  con- 


139  ^t>e  iWonft 

antr  t})e 


gregatiou  was  awed  into  devotion  and  seemed  to 
feel  as  if  it  stood  in  the  Holy  of  Ilolies. 

The  service  being  concluded,  I  blessed  the  peo- 
ple and  they  quietly  went  away.  They  had  not 
been  long  gone  before  I  heard  the  lads  send  forth 
ringing  shouts,  but  this  did  not  displease  me. 
Why  should  they  not  rejoice  ?  Is  not  cheerfulness 
the  purest  praise  a  human  heart  can  give  ? 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  down  to  Benedicta's 
cabin  and  found  her  at  the  door,  making  a  wreath 
of  edelweiss  for  the  image  of  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
intertwining  the  snowy  flowers  with  a  purple  blos- 
som that  looked  like  blood. 

Seating  myself  beside  her,  I  looked  on  at  her 
beautiful  work  in  silence,  but  in  my  soul  was  a 
wild  tumult  of  emotion  and  a  voice  that  cried  : 
"Benedicta,  my  love,  my  soul,  I  love  you  more 
than  life  !  I  love  you  above  all  things  on  earth 
and  in  Heaven  !  " 


J^anflinan's 
llBauffl)trc. 


XXXI. 


'HE  Superior  ecut  for  me,  and 
with  a  strange  foreboding  I 
followed  his  messenger  down 
the  difficult  way  to  the  lake 
and  embarked  in  the  boat. 
Occui^ied  with  gloomy  reflec- 
tions and  presentiments  of  im- 
pending evil,  I  hardly  observed  that  we  had  left 
the  shore  before  the  sound  of  merry  voices  apprised 
me  of  our  arrival  at  St.  Bartholomae.  On  the 
beautiful  meadow  surrounding  the  dwelling  of  the 
Superior  were  a  great  number  of  people  —  priests, 
friars,  mountaineers  and  hunters.  Many  were 
there  who  had  come  from  afar  with  large  retinues  of 
servants  and  boys.  In  the  house  was  a  great 
bustle  —  a  confusion  and  a  hurrying  to  and  fro,  as 
during  a  fair.  The  doors  stood  wide  open,  and 
people  ran  in  and  out,  clamoring  noisily.  The 
dogs  yelped  and  howled  as  loud  as  they  could. 
On  a  stand  under  an  oak  was  a  great  cask  of  beer, 
and  many  of  the  people  were  gathered  about  it, 

141 


fffte  iWonft  142 

drinking.  Inside  the  house,  too,  there  seemed  to 
be  much  drinking,  for  I  saw  many  men  near  the 
windows  with  mighty  cujos  in  their  hands. 

On  entering,  I  encountered  throngs  of  servants 
carrying  dishes  of  fish  and  game.  I  asked  one  of 
them  when  I  could  see  the  Superior.  He  answered 
that  His  Reverence  would  be  down  immediately 
after  the  meal,  and  I  concluded  to  wait  in  the 
hall.  The  walls  were  hung  with  pictures  of  some 
large  fish  which  had  been  caught  in  the  lake. 
Below  each  picture  the  weight  of  the  monster  and 
the  date  of  its  capture,  together  with  the  name  of 
the  person  taking  it,  were  inscribed  in  large  letters. 
I  could  not  help  interpreting  these  records  —  per- 
haps uncharitably  —  as  intimations  to  all  good 
Christians  to  pray  for  the  souls  of  those  whose 
names  were  inscribed. 

After  more  than  an  hour  the  Superior  descended 
the  stairs.  I  stepped  forward,  saluting  him  hum- 
bly, as  became  my  position.  He  nodded,  eyed  me 
sharj)ly,  and  directed  me  to  go  to  his  apartment 
immediately  after  supper.     This  I  did. 

"How  about  your  soul,  my  son  Ambrosius?" 
he  asked  me,  solemnly.  "Has  the  Lord  shown 
you  grace  ?    Have  you  endured  the  probation  ?  " 

Humbly,  with  my   head    bowed,  I   answered  : 


143 

"Most  reverend  Father,  God  in  my  solitude  has 
given  me  knowledge." 

"  Of  what  ?     Of  your  guilt  ?  " 

This  I  affirmed. 

"  Praise  be  to  God  ! "  exclaimed  the  Superior. 
"I  knew,  my  son,  that  solitude  would  speak  to 
your  soul  with  the  tongue  of  an  angel.  I  have 
good  tidings  for  you.  I  have  written  in  your  behalf 
to  the  Bishop  of  Salzburg,  lie  summons  you  to 
his  palace.  lie  will  consecrate  you  and  give  you 
holy  orders  in  person,  and  you  will  remain  in  his 
city.  Prepare  yourself,  for  in  three  days  you  are 
to  leave  us." 

The  Superior  looked  sharply  into  my  face  again, 
but  I  did  not  permit  him  to  see  into  my  heart.  I 
asked  for  his  benediction,  bowed  and  left  him. 
Ah,  then,  it  was  for  this  that  I  was  summoned  ! 
I  am  to  go  away  forever.  I  must  leave  my  very 
life  behind  me ;  I  must  renounce  my  care  and 
protection  of  Benedicta.     God  help  her  and  me  ! 


me  Ptonfe 

antr  tl)e 

J^anaman's 

3I9auat)ter. 


XXXIL 


AM  once  more  in  my  mount- 
ain home,  but  to-morrow  I 
leave  it  forever.  But  Avhy 
am  I  sad  ?  Does  not  a  great 
blessing  await  me  ?  Have 
I  not  ever  looked  forward 
to  the  moment  of  my  con- 
secration with  longing,  believing  it  would  bring 
me  the  supreme  happiness  of  my  life  ?  And 
now  that  this  great  joy  and  blessing  is  almost 
within  my  grasp,  I  am  sad  beyond  measure. 

Can  I  approach  the  altar  of  the  Lord  with  a 
lie  on  my  Yi-ps  ?  Can  I  receive  the  holy  sacra- 
ment as  an  impostw  ?  The  holy  oil  upon  my 
forehead  would  turn  to  fire  and  burn  into  my 
brain,  and  I  should  be  forever  damned. 

I  might  fall  upon  my  knees  before  the  Bishop 
and  say :  "  Expel  me,  for  I  do  not  seek  after 
the  love  of  Christ,  nor  after  holy  and  heavenly 
things,  but  after  the  things  of  this  world." 


10 


143 


Srje  i«onft  14G 

anD  tilt 


5S|anflman'» 
Saufll)tec. 


If  I  so  spoke,  I  should  be  punished,  but  I 
could  endure  that  without  a  murmur. 

If  only  I  were  sinless  and  could  rightly  be- 
come a  priest,  I  could  be  of  great  service  to  the 
poor  child.  I  should  be  able  to  give  her  infinite 
blessings  and  consolations.  I  could  be  her  con- 
fessor and  absolve  her  from  sin,  and,  if  I  should 
outlive  her  —  which  God  forbid!  —  might  by  my 
prayers  even  redeem  her  soul  from  Purgatory. 
I  could  read  masses  for  the  souls  of  her  poor 
dead  parents,  already  in  torment. 

Above  all,  if  I  succeeded  in  preserving  her 
from  that  one  great  and  destructive  sin  for 
which  she  secretly  longs ;  if  I  could  take  her 
with  me  and  place  her  under  thy  protection, 
0  Blessed  Virgin,  that  would  be  happiness  in- 
deed. 

But  where  is  the  sanctuary  that  would  receive 
the  hangman's  daughter  ?  I  know  it  but  too 
well :  when  I  am  gone  from  here,  the  Evil  One, 
in  the  winning  shape  he  has  assumed,  will  pre- 
vail, and  she  will  be  lost  in  time  and  in  eternity. 


XXXIII. 


HAVE   been   at  Benedicta's 
cabin. 

"Benedicta,"  I  said,  "I  am 
going  away  from  here  — 
away  from  the  mountains  — 
away  from  yon." 
Slie  grew  pale,  but  said 
nothing.  For  a  moment  I  w-as  overcome  with 
emotion  ;  I  seemed  to  choke  and  could  not  con- 
tinue. Presently  I  said  :  "  Poor  child,  what  will 
become  of  you  ?  I  know  that  your  love  for 
Eochus  is  strong,  and  love  is  like  a  torrent  which 
nothing  can  stay.  There  is  no  safety  for  you  but 
in  clinging  to  the  cross  of  our  Savior.  Promise 
me  that  you  will  do  so  —  do  not  let  me  go  away 
in  misery,  Benedicta." 

"  Am  I,  then,  so  wicked  ?  "  she  said,  without  lift- 
ing her  eyes  from  the  ground.  "Can  I  not  be 
trusted  ?  " 

"Ah,  but,  Benedicta,  the  enemy  is  strong,  and 

147 


Et>t  ifttonft 


148 


anK  t\)t       yQ^  have  a  traitor  to  unbar  the  gates.     Yonr  own 
?eangraan»s    j^^art,  poor  child,  will  at  last  betray  you." 
BauuDter.         «  jjg  ^jii  j^o^  j-^ami  me,"  she  murmured.     "  You 
wrong  him,  sir,  indeed  you  do." 

But  I  knew  that  I  did  not,  and  was  all  the 
more  concerned  to  judge  that  the  wolf  would  use 
the  arts  of  the  fox.  Before  the  sacred  purity  of 
this  maiden  the  base  passions  of  the  youth  had  not 
dared  to  declare  themselves.  But  none  the  less  I 
knew  that  an  hour  would  come  Vvdien  she  would 
have  need  of  all  her  strength,  and  it  would  fail 
her.  I  grasped  her  arm  and  demanded  that  she 
take  an  oath  that  she  would  throw  herself  into  the 
waters  of  the  Black  Lake  rather  than  into  the 
arms  of  Rochus.  But  she  would  not  reply.  She 
remained  silent,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  mine  with  a 
look  of  sadness  and  reproach  which  filled  my  mind 
with  the  most  melancholy  thoughts,  and,  turning 
away,  I  left  her. 


XXXIV. 


^OED,  Savior  of  my  soul, 
whither  hast  thon  led  me  ? 
Here  am  I  in  the  culprit's 
tower,  a  condemned  mur- 
derer, and  to-morrow  at  sun- 
rise I  shall  be  taken  to  the 
gallows  and  hanged !  For 
whoso  slays  a  fellow  being,  he  shall  be  slain  ;  that 
is  the  law  of  God  and  man. 

On  this  the  last  day  of  my  life  I  have  asked  that 
I  be  permitted  to  write,  and  my  prayer  is  granted. 
In  the  name  of  God  and  in  the  truth  I  shall  now 
set  down  all  that  occurred. 

Leaving  Benedicta,  I  returned  to  my  cabin,  and, 
having  packed  everything,  waited  for  the  boy.  But 
he  did  not  come  :  I  should  have  to  remain  in  the 
mountains  another  night.  I  grew  restless.  The 
cabin  seemed  too  narrow  to  hold  me  ;  the  air  too 
heavy  and  hot  to  sustain  life.  Going  outside,  I  lay 
upon  a  rock  and  looked  up  at  the  sky,  dark  and 

149 


arte  £aort& 

anlr  t|)c 

Jljanjiman's 

3IDauflJ)ter. 


150 

glittering  with  stars.  But  my  soul  was  not  in  the 
heavens ;  it  was  at  the  cabin  by  tlie  Black  Lake. 

Suddenly  I  heard  a  faint,  distant  cvy,  like  a 
human  voice.  I  sat  upright  and  listened,  but  all 
Avas  still.  It  may  have  been,  I  thought,  the  note 
of  some  night-bird.  I  was  about  to  lie  down  again, 
when  the  cry  was  repeated,  but  it  seemed  to  come 
from  another  direction.  It  was  the  voice  of  Bene- 
dicta  !  It  sounded  again,  and  now  it  seemed  to 
come  from  the  air  —  from  the  sky  above  my  head, 
and  distinctly  it  called  my  name  ;  but,  0  Mother 
of  God,  what  anguish  was  in  those  tones  ! 

I  leapt  from  the  rock.  "  Benedicta,  Bene- 
dicta  !  "  I  cried  aloud.     There  was  no  reply. 

"  Benedicta,  I  am  coming  to  thee,  child  ! " 

I  sprang  away  in  the  darkness,  along  the  path 
to  the  Black  Lake.  I  ran  and  leapt,  stumbling 
and  falling  over  rocks  and  stumps  of  trees.  My 
limbs  were  bruised,  my  clothing  was  torn,  but  I 
gave  no  heed ;  Benedicta  was  in  distress,  and  I 
alone  could  save  and  guard  her.  I  rushed  on 
until  I  reached  the  Black  Lake.  But  at  the  cabin 
all  was  quiet ;  there  was  neither  light  nor  sound  ; 
everything  was  as  peaceful  as  a  house  of  God. 

After  waiting  a  long  time  I  left.  The  voice  that 
I  had  heard  calling  me  could  not  have  been  Bene- 


151  JTjjc  i«onfe 

anU  tlje 
$^ansman'» 


dicta's,  but  must  have  been   that   of   some   evil 


spirit  mocking  me  in  my  great  sorrow.  I  meant 
to  return  to  my  cabin,  but  an  invisible  hand 
directed  my  steps  another  way  ;  and  although  it 
led  me  to  my  death,  I  know  it  to  have  been  the 
hand  of  the  Lord. 

Walking  on,  hardly  knowing  whither,  and  un- 
able to  find  the  path  by  which  I  had  descended,  I 
found  myself  at  the  foot  of  a  precipice.  Here  was 
a  narrow  path  leading  steeply  upward  along  the 
face  of  the  cliff,  and  I  began  ascending  it.  After 
I  had  gone  up  some  distance  I  looked  above,  and 
saw  outlined  against  the  starry  sky  a  cabin  perched 
upon  the  very  verge.  It  flashed  through  my 
mind  that  that  was  the  hunting-lodge  of  the  Salt- 
master's  sou,  and  this  the  path  by  which  he  visited 
Benedicta.  Merciful  Father !  he,  Rochus,  was 
certain  to  come  this  way ;  there  could  be  no  other. 
I  would  wait  for  him  here. 

I  crouched  in  the  shadow  and  waited,  thinking 
what  to  say  to  him  and  imploring  the  Lord  for 
inspiration  to  change  his  heart  and  turn  him  from 
his  evil  purpose. 

Before  long  I  heard  him  approaching  from 
above.  I  heard  the  stones  displaced  by  his  foot 
roll  down  the  steep  slopes  and  leap  into  the  lake 


grte  ittonfe  152 

anti  tte 


ISaujil)ter. 


far  below.  Then  I  prayed  God  that  if  I  should 
be  unable  to  soften  the  youth's  heart  he  might 
miss  his  footing  and  fall,  too,  like  the  stones  ;  for 
it  would  be  better  that  he  should  meet  a  sudden 
and  impenitent  death,  and  his  soul  be  lost,  than 
that  he  should  live  to  destroy  the  soul  of  an  inno- 
cent girl. 

Turning  an  angle  of  the  rock,  he  stood  directly 
before  me  as,  rising,  I  stepped  into  the  faint  light 
of  the  new  moon,  lie  knew  me  at  once,  and  in  a 
haughty  tone  asked  me  what  I  wanted. 

I  replied  mildly,  explaining  why  I  had  barred 
his  way,  and  begging  him  to  go  back.  He  insulted 
and  derided  me. 

"You  miserable  cowler,"  he  said,  "will  you 
never  cease  meddling  in  my  affairs  ?  Because  the 
mountain  maids  are  so  foolish  as  to  praise  your 
white  teeth  and  your  big  black  eyes,  must  you  fancy 
yourself  a  man,  and  not  a  monk  ?  You  are  no 
more  to  women  than  a  goat !  " 

I  begged  him  to  desist  and  to  listen  to  me.  I 
threw  myself  on  my  knees  and  implored  him,  how- 
ever he  might  despise  me  and  my  humble  though 
holy  station,  to  respect  Benedicta  and  spare  her. 
But  he  pushed  me  from  him  with  his  foot  upon 


We  struggled  upward  and  downward  along  the  path. 


jBiJanjjman's 
BauQi)ter. 


253  ^^^  i^Conft 

anti  ti)e 
my  breast.     No  longer  master  of  myself,  I  sprang 

erect,  and  called  him  an  assassin  and  a  villain. 

At  this  he  pulled  a  dagger  from  his  belt,  saying  : 
"I  V, ill  send  you  to  Hell  !  " 

Quick  as  a  flash  of  lightning  my  hand  was  upon 
his  wi-ist.  I  wrested  the  knife  from  him  and  flung 
it  behind  me,  crying:  "Not  with  Aveapons,  but 
unarmed  and  equal  we  will  fight  to  the  death,  and 
the  Lord  shall  decide  !  " 

We  sprang  upon  one  another  with  the  fury  of 
wild  animals,  and  were  instantly  locked  together 
with  arms  and  hands.  We  struggled  upward  and 
downward  along  the  path,  with  the  great  wall  of 
rock  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  the  preci2:)ice, 
the  abyss,  the  waters  of  the  Black  Lake  !  We 
writhed  and  strained  for  the  advantage,  but  the 
Lord  was  against  me,  for  he  permitted  my  enemy 
to  overcome  me  and  throw  me  down  on  the  edge 
of  the  precipice.  I  was  in  the  grasp  of  a  strong 
enemy,  whose  eyes  glowed  like  coals  of  fire.  His 
knee  was  on  my  breast  and  my  head  Ining  over 
the  edge  —  my  life  was  in  his  hands.  I  thought 
he  would  push  me  over,  but  he  made  no  attempt 
to  do  so.  He  held  me  there  between  life  and 
death  for  a  dreadful  time,  then  said,  in  a  low,  hiss- 
ing voice  :  "  You  see,  monk,  if  I  but  move  I  can 


anti  ti)e 
33aual)tcr. 


154 

hurl  you  down  the  abyss  like  a  stone.  But  I  care 
not  to  take  your  life,  for  it  is  no  impediment  to 
me.  The  girl  belongs  to  me,  and  to  me  you  shall 
leave  her  ;  do  you  understand  ?  " 

With  that  he  rose  and  left  me,  going  down  the 
path  toward  tlie  lake.  His  footfalls  had  long  died 
away  in  the  silent  night  before  I  was  able  to  move 
hand  or  foot.  Great  God  !  I  surely  did  not 
deserve  such  defeat,  humiliation  and  pain.  I  had 
but  wished  to  save  a  soul,  yet  Heaven  permitted 
me  to  be  conquered  by  him  who  would  destroy  it  ! 

Finally  I  was  able  to  rise,  although  in  great 
pain,  for  I  was  bruised  by  my  fall,  and  could  still 
feel  the  fierce  youth's  knee  upon  my  breast  and  his 
fingers  about  my  throat.  I  walked  with  difiiculty 
back  along  the  path,  downward  toward  the  lake. 
Wounded  as  I  was,  I  would  return  to  Benedicta's 
cabin  and  interpose  my  body  between  her  and 
harm.  But  my  progress  was  slow,  and  I  had  fre- 
quently to  rest ;  yet  it  was  near  dawn  before  I 
gave  uj:)  the  effort,  convinced  that  I  should  be  too 
late  to  do  the  poor  child  the  small  service  of  yield- 
ing up  my  remnant  of  life  in  her  defense. 

At  early  dawn  I  heard  Eochus  returning,  with 
a  merry  song  upon  his  lips.     I  concealed  myself 


155  Stjc  ptonft 

behind  a  rock,  though  not  in  fear,  and  he  passed 
without  seeing  me. 

At  this  point  there  was  a  break  in  the  wall  of 
the  clijff,  the  i^ath  crossing  a  great  crevice  which 
clove  the  mountain  as  by  a  sword-stroke  from  the 
arm  of  a  Titan.  The  bottom  was  strewn  with 
loose  boulders  and  overgrown  with  brambles  and 
shrubs,  through  which  trickled  a  slender  stream 
of  water  fed  by  the  melting  snows  above.  Here  I 
remained  for  three  days  and  two  nights.  I  heard 
the  boy  from  the  monastery  calling  my  name  as 
he  traversed  the  path  searching  for  me,  but  I 
made  no  answer.  Not  once  did  I  quench  my 
burning  thirst  at  the  brook  nor  appease  my  hun- 
ger with  blackberries  that  grew  abundantly  on 
every  side.  Thus  I  mortified  the  sinful  flesh, 
killed  rebellious  nature  and  subdued  my  spirit  to 
the  Lord  until  at  last  I  felt  myself  delivered  from 
all  evil,  freed  from  the  bondage  of  an  earthly  love 
and  prej)ared  to  devote  my  heart  and  soul  and  life 
to  no  woman  but  thee,  0  Blessed  Virgin  ! 

The  Lord  having  wrought  this  miracle,  my  soul 
felt  as  light  and  free  as  if  wings  were  lifting  me 
to  the  skies,  I  praised  the  Lord  in  a  loud  voice, 
shouting  and  rejoicing  till  the  rocks  rang  with  the 
sound.     I  cried  :  "  Hosanna  !    Hosanna  !  "     I  was 


JDauflttcr. 


SCtc  ifiConlt  256 

anlr  t^e 

now  prepared  to  go  before  the  altar  and  receive 

the  holy  oil  ujDon  my  head.  I  was  no  longer  my- 
self. Ambrosias,  the  jDoor  erring  monk,  was  dead  ; 
I  was  an  instrnment  in  the  right  hand  of  God  to 
execute  Ilis  holy  will.  I  j^rayed  for  the  delivery 
of  the  soul  of  the  beautiful  maiden,  and  as  I 
l^rayed,  behold  !  there  ajDpeared  to  me  in  the 
splendor  and  glory  of  Heaven  the  Lord  Himself, 
attended  by  innumerable  angels,  filling  half  the 
sky  !  A  great  rapture  enthralled  my  senses ;  I  was 
dumb  with  happiness.  With  a  smile  of  ineffable 
benignity  God  spake  to  me  : 

"Because  that  thou  hast  been  faithful  to  thy 
trust,  and  through  all  the  trials  that  I  have  sent 
upon  thee  hast  not  faltered,  the  salvation  of  the 
sinless  maiden's  soul  is  now  indeed  given  into  thy 
hand." 

"Thou,  Lord,  knowest,"  I  replied,  "that  I  am 
without  the  means  to  do  this  work,  nor  know  I 
how  it  is  to  be  done." 

The  Lord  commanded  me  to  rise  and  Avalk  on, 
and,  turning  my  face  away  from  the  glorious 
Presence,  which  filled  the  heart  of  the  cloven 
mountain  with  light,  I  obeyed,  leaving  the  scene 
of  my  purgation  and  regaining  the  path  that  led 
np  the  face  of  the  cliff.     I  began  the  ascent,  walk- 


157  (5j,e  p^onft 

ing  on  and  on   in  the   splendor  of  the  sunset,      ^^^  *^^ 
reflected  from  crimson  clouds.  ?qanaman  s 

Suddenly  I  felt  impelled  to  stop  and  look  down,  ^DauuDter. 
and  there  at  my  feet,  shining  red  in  the  cloudlight, 
as  if  stained  with  blood,  lay  the  sharp  knife  of 
Eochus.  Now  I  understood  why  the  Lord  had 
permitted  that  wicked  youth  to  conquer  me, 
yet  had  moved  him  to  spare  my  life.  I  had  been 
reserved  for  a  more  glorious  jiurpose.  And  so  was 
placed  in  my  hands  the  means  to  that  sacred  end. 
My  God,  my  God,  how  mysterious  are  Thy  ways ! 


XXXV. 

^OU  shall  IcaTC  her  to  me." 
So  had  sjjoken  the  wicked 
youth  while  holding  me  be- 
tween life  and  death  at  the 
precii)ice.  He  permitted 
me  to  live,  not  from  Christian 
mercy,  but  because  he  de- 
spised my  life,  a  trivial  thing  to  him,  not  worth 
taking.  He  was  sure  of  his  prey  ;  it  did  not  matter 
if  I  were  living  or  dead. 

"You  shall  leave  her  to  me."  Oh,  arrogant  fool ! 
Do  you  not  know  that  the  Lord  holds  His  hand 
over  the  flowers  of  the  field  and  the  young  birds 
in  the  nest?  Leave  Benedicta  to  you?  —  permit 
you  to  destroy  her  body  and  her  soul  ?  Ah,  you 
shall  see  how  the  hand  of  God  shall  be  spread  above 
her  to  guard  and  save.  There  is  yet  time  —  that 
soul  is  still  spotless  and  undcfiled.  Forward,  then, 
to  fulfill  the  command  of  the  Most  High  God  ! 

I  knelt  upon  the  spot  where  God  had  given  into 
my  hand  the  means  of  her  deliverance.     My  soul 


anU  tl)e 
JB^anQtnan's 


160 

was  wholly  absorbed  in  the  mission  intrusted  to 
me.  My  heart  was  in  an  ecstasy,  and  I  saw  plainly, 
as  in  a  vision,  the  triumphant  completion  of  the 
act  which  I  had  still  to  do. 

I  arose,  and,  concealing  the  knife  in  my  cowl, 
retraced  my  steps,  going  downward  toward  the 
Black  Lake.  V  The  new  moon  looked  like  a  divine 
wound  in  the  sky,  as  if  some  hand  had  plunged  a 
dagger  into  Heaven's  holy  breast.^^- 

Bencdicta's  door  was  ajar,  and  I  stood  outside  a 
long  time,  gazing  upon  the  beautiful  picture  pre- 
sented to  my  eyes.  A  bright  fire  on  the  hearth  lit 
up  the  room.  Opposite  the  fire  sat  Benedicta, 
combing  her  long  golden  hair.  Unlike  it  was  the 
last  time  that  I  had  stood  before  her  cabin  and 
gazed  in  upon  it,  her  face  was  full  of  happiness 
and  had  a  glory  that  I  had  never  imagined  in  it. 
A  sensuous  smile  played  about  her  lips  while  she 
sang  in  a  low,  sweet  voice  the  air  of  a  love  song  of 
the  people.  Ah  me !  she  was  beautiful ;  she 
looked  like  a  bride  of  Heaven.  But  though  her 
voice  was  as  that  of  an  angel,  it  angered  me,  and 
I  called  out  to  her  : 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Benedicta,  so  late  in  the 
evening  ?  You  sing  as  if  you  expected  your  lover, 
and  arrange  your  hair  as  for  a  dance.     It  is  but 


161  Srte  IWonft 

antr  tije 


three  days  since  I,  yonr  brother  and  only  friend, 
left  yon,  in  sorrow  and  despair.  And  now  you  are 
as  happy  as  a  bride. " 

She  sprang  wp  and  manifested  great  joy  at  see- 
ing me  again,  and  hastened  to  kiss  my  hands. 
But  she  had  no  sooner  glanced  into  my  face  than 
she  uttered  a  scream  of  terror  and  recoiled  from 
me  as  if  I  had  been  a  fiend  from  Hell ! 

But  I  approaclied  her  and  asked:  "  Why  do  you 
adorn  yourself  so  late  in  the  night  ?  —  why  are  you 
so  happy  ?  Have  the  three  days  been  long  enough 
for  you  to  fall  ?    Are  you  the  mistress  of  Rochus?  " 

She  stood  staring  at  me  in  horror.  She  asked  : 
"  Where  have  you  been  and  why  do  you  come  ? 
You  look  so  ill  I  Sir,  sit,  I  pray  you,  and  rest. 
You  are  pale  and  you  shake  with  cold.  I  will 
make  you  a  warm  drink  and  you  will  feel  better." 

She  was  silenced  by  my  stern  gaze.  "  I  have  not 
come  to  rest  and  be  nursed  by  you,"  I  said.  "I 
am  here  because  the  Lord  commands.  Tell  me  why 
you  sang." 

She  looked  up  at  me  with  the  innocent  expres- 
sion of  a  babe,  and  i-eplied:  "  Because  I  had  for  the 
moment  forgotten  that  you  were  going  away,  and 
I  was  happy." 

"  Happy  ?  " 
11 


Ji^anfiman's 
Uausttcr. 


anlr  t})e 


^ansman's 
Baus1)tet. 


"Yes — he  has  been  here." 

"Who?    Eochus?" 

She  nodded.  "He  was  so  good,"  she  said. 
"  He  will  ask  his  father  to  consent  to  see  me,  and 
perhaps  take  me  to  his  great  house  and  persuade 
the  Reverend  Superior  to  remove  the  curse  from 
my  life.  "Would  not  that  he  fine  ?  Bat  then," 
she  added,  with  a  sudden  change  of  voice  and  man- 
ner, lowering  her  eyes,  "perha^Ds  you  would  no 
longer  care  for  me.  It  is  because  I  am  poor  and 
friendless." 

"  What !  he  will  persuade  his  father  to  befriend 
you  ?  —  to  take  you  to  his  home  ?  —  you,  the  hang- 
man's daughter  ?  He,  this  reckless  youth,  at  war 
with  God  and  God's  ministers,  will  move  the 
Church!  Oh,  lie,  lie,  lie!  0  Bcnedicta  —  lost, 
betrayed  Benedicta  !  By  your  smiles  and  by  your 
tears  I  know  that  you  believe  the  monstrous 
promises  of  this  infamous  villain." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  inclining  her  head  as  if  she 
were  making  a  confession  of  faith  before  the  altar 
of  the  Lord,  "I  believe  him." 

"Kneel,  then,"  I  cried,  "and  i)raise  the  Lord 
for  sending  one  of  His  chosen  to  save  your  soul 
from  temporal  and  eternal  perdition  I  " 


1^^  EJje  J«onft 

At  these  words  she  trembled  as  in  great  fear.      ^^^  ^^^ 
"What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  "  she  exclaimed.       ^anjiman's 

"To  pray  that  your  sins  may  be  forgiven."  Baufljiter. 

A  sudden  rapturous  impulse  seized  my  soul.  "  I 
am  a  priest,"  I  cried,  "anointed  and  ordained  by 
God  Himself,  and  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and 
of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  I  forgive  you 
your  only  sin,  which  is  your  love.  I  give  you 
absolution  without  repentance.  I  free  your  soul 
from  the  taint  of  sin  because  you  will  atone  for  it 
with  your  blood  and  life." 

With  these  words,  I  seized  her  and  forced  her 
down  upon  her  knees.  But  she  wanted  to  live ; 
she  cried  and  wailed.  She  clung  to  my  knees  and 
entreated  and  implored  in  the  name  of  God  and 
the  Blessed  Virgin.  Then  she  sprang  to  her  feet 
and  attempted  to  run  away.  I  seized  her  again, 
but  she  broke  from  ray  grasp  and  ran  to  the  open 
door,  crying :  "  Rochus  !  Rochus  !  help,  oh,  help  !" 

Springing  after  her,  I  grasped  her  by  the 
shoulder,  turned  her  half-round  and  plunged 
the  knife  into  her  breast.   .  .  . 

I  held  her  in  my  arms,  pressed  her  against  my 
heart  and  felt  her  warm  blood  upon  my  body. 
She  opened  her  eyes  and  fixed  npon  me  a  look  of 
reproach,  as  if  I  had  robbed  her  of  a  life  of  hap- 


me  i«onfe  164 

anD  tl)e 


55§an2man's 
JSaufijjter. 


piness.  Then  her  eyes  slowly  closed,  she  gave  a 
long,  shuddering  sigh,  her  little  head  turned  upon 
my  shoulder,  and  so  she  died. 

I  wrapped  the  beautiful  body  in  a  white  sheet, 
leaving  the  face  uncovered,  and  laid  it  uj^on  the 
floor.  But  the  blood  tinged  the  linen,  so  I  parted 
her  long  golden  hair,  spreading  it  over  the  crim- 
son roses  upon  her  breast.  As  I  had  made  her  a 
bride  of  Heaven,  I  took  from  the  image  of  the 
Virgin  the  wreath  of  edelweiss  and  placed  it  on 
Benedicta's  brow  ;  and  now  I  remembered  the 
edelweiss  which  she  had  once  brought  me  to  com- 
fort me  in  my  penance. 

Then  I  stirred  the  fire,  which  cast  upon  the 
shrouded  figure  and  the  beautiful  face  a  rich  red 
light,  as  if  God's  glory  had  descended  there  to 
enfold  her.  It  was  caught  and  tangled  in  the 
golden  tresses  that  lay  upon  her  breast,  so  that 
they  looked  a  mass  of  curling  flame. 

And  so  I  left  her. 


XXXVI. 

DESCENDED  the  moimt- 
aiu  by  precipitous  paths, 
but  the  Lord  guided  my 
steps  so  tliat  I  neither  stum- 
bled uor  fell  into  an  abyss. 
At  tlie  dawning  of  the  day 
I  arrived  at  the  monastery, 
rang  the  bell  and  waited  until  the  gate  Avas 
opened.  The  brother  porter  evidently  thought 
me  a  fiend,  for  he  raised  a  howl  that  aroused  the 
whole  monastery .  I  went  straight  to  the  room  of 
the  Suj)erior,  stood  before  him  in  my  blood-stained 
garments,  and,  telling  him  for  what  deed  the  Lord 
had  chosen  me,  informed  him  that  I  was  now  an 
ordained  priest.  At  this  they  seized  me,  put  me 
into  the  tower,  and,  holding  court  upon  me,  con- 
demned me  to  death  as  if  I  were  a  murderer.  Oh, 
the  fools,  the  poor  demented  fools  ! 


One  person  has  come  to  me  to-day  in  my  dun- 
geon, who  fell  upon  her  knees  before  me,  kissed 

1G5 


16G 


my  hands  and  adored  me  as  God's  chosen  instrn- 
ment  —  Amula,   the  brown   maiden.      She   alone 


3iau2!)tec. 


has  discovered  that  I  have  done  a  great  and  glori- 
ous deed. 

I  have  asked  Amnla  to  chase  away  the  vultures 
from  my  body,  for  Benedicta  is  in  Heaven. 

I  shall  soon  be  with  her.  Praise  be  to  God  ! 
Hosanna  !  Amen. 

[To  this  old  manuscript  are  added  the  following 
lines  in  another  hand  :  "  On  the  fifteenth  day  of 
October,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1680,  in  this 
place.  Brother  Ambrosius  v/as  hanged,  and  on  the 
following  day  his  body  was  buried  under  the  gal- 
lows, close  to  that  of  the  girl  Benedicta,  whom  he 
killed.  This  Benedicta,  though  called  the  hang- 
man's daughter,  was  (as  is  now  known  through 
declarations  of  the  youth  Rochus)  the  bastard 
child  of  the  Saltmaster  by  the  hangman's  wife. 
It  is  also  veritably  attested  by  the  same  youth  that 
the  maiden  cherished  a  secret  and  forbidden  love 
for  him  who  slew  her  in  ignorance  of  her  passion. 
In  all  else  Brother  Ambrosius  was  a  faithful  serv- 
ant of  the  Lord.      Pray  for  him,  pray  for  him  ! "] 

THE    END. 


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Country.     12mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

Fitch,  Thomas  and  Anna  M. 

BETTER  DAYS;  or,  A  Millionaire  of  To-morrow. 
12mo,  cloth,  $1.25;  paper,  50c. 


Garland,  Hamlin. 

A  MEMBER  OF  THE  THIRD  HOUSE.      12mo,  cloth, 
$1.25;  paper,  5i.'c. 

PRAIRIE    FOLKS.      Illustrated.     12mo,    cloth,    $1.26; 
paper,  50c. 

Holmes,  flargret. 

THE  PRICE  OF  THE  RING.   12mo,  cloth,  $1.25;  paper, 
50c. 

Kerr,  Alvah  Hilton. 

AN  HONEST  LAWYER.    12mo,  cloth,  $1.25;  paper,  50c. 
Marsh,  Marie  More. 

VIC:  THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FOX  TERRIER. 

Illustrated.    12mo,  cloth,  $1.00. 

Norton,  S.  F. 

TEN  MEN  OF  MONEY  ISLAND.     12mo,  cloth,  $1.00; 
paper,  25c. 

Read,  Opie. 

A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.    12mo  cloth,  $1.25;  paper, 

50c. 
EMMETT  BONLORE.     12mo,  cloth,  $1.25;  paper,  50c. 
LEN  GANSETT.     12mo,  cloth,  $1.25;  paper,  50c. 
TOOTHPICK  TALES.     12iuo,  cloth,  $1.00;  paper,  50c. 

Waterloo,  Stanley. 

A  MAN  AND  A  WOMAN.     12mo,  cloth,  $1.25;  paper, 
50c.  

^^The  successful  house  of  F.  J.  Schulte  is  a  nciv  one,  hut  it  is 
turning  out  a  great  quantity  of  books,  tvhich  are  crowding  from 
countless  book-counters  and  news-stands  the  ■multiplied  trash 
tvhich  used  to  flood  the  country.  Many  of  the  Schulte  books  are 
u-ith  a  purpose,  but  he  is  putting  before  his  public,  too.  books  that 
shoto  the  beginning  of  a  live  native  literature  in  the  Middle  West. 
Men  like  Opie  Read,  ivhose  'Kentucky  ColoneV  and  ' Emmett 
Bonlore'  have  the  genuine  self-respecting  flavor  of  the  soil,  are 
doing  a  work  for  American  literature  which  cannot  be  lightly 
estimated  either  in  its  influence  or  its  direct  achievement." 

— Boston  Transcript. 

F.  J.  SCHULTE  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

298  Dearborn  Street,  Chicago. 


